trauma
At its core, trauma can be thought of as the psychological wounds that persist, even when the physical ones are long gone.
My Guests
I sat in that room I was born in. I spent formative years with the duality watching over me. They were treacherous; at times affectionate and nurturing; others cold and barbaric. From kisses to strikes across my cheeks, to kicks above my knees. An upbringing riddled with light and darkness; a preparation for their departure and my first guest.
By Andrew Dominguez12 months ago in Psyche
Something's Gotta Give
I’m not drunk enough to write out this story. Which is a shame, since I’m highly allergic to alcohol. As in the “one mouthful and take bets if the ambulance gets here in time” scale of things. And I can’t even chug a soda, because that would spike my diabetic self into the stratosphere.
By Meredith Harmon12 months ago in Psyche
The Mind Wanders
Before I begin, I would like to tell you, the reader, that I’m okay. This narrative is prompted by a Vocal challenge entitled “The Metamorphosis of the Mind.” This challenge is a no more than 2,500-word and no less than 1,000-word piece where I, the author, am supposed to share a transformative moment from my mental or emotional journey. For the past few years, while being a Vocal Plus member, I have been entering these challenges in the hopes of likes, reads, subscriptions, and, of course, prize money. My entries, thus far, have been mostly fictional pieces of science fiction, fantasy, horror, and the occasional poetry. I report that to date, I have not won nor have had an honorable mention, which is okay. I am hopeful that I will at least sharpen my skills to where someone enjoys my writing enough to continuously want to read what I put out on Vocal. This challenge, however, is different. This challenge wants us to explore our own psyche and present a moment of our lives to you, the reader. I did not know where to begin with this entry, for you see, I believe I have experienced a more than average share of personal growth. Let me quickly explain.
By Anthony Diaz12 months ago in Psyche
The First Time I Fell in Love Was Also the Last
They say your first love never really leaves you. I didn’t know mine would come and go in the same summer. This is me. A shy, thoughtful 17-year-old in my final summer before college. The kind of person who watches life from the sidelines—introverted, observant, not the type who’s ever been in love before. My world is small, familiar, and safe… until he arrives.
By Gift Abotsi 12 months ago in Psyche
The Power of Rock Bottom . Runner-Up in The Metamorphosis of the Mind Challenge. Content Warning.
For the fifth time that night, nausea washed over me, as my gut began to heave and contract. Pulling myself up to kneel, I pulled the glass bowl closer to my face, as the razor-sharp convulsions brought up more bile. The yellow liquid stung my mouth.
By Chantal Christie12 months ago in Psyche
My story of . Content Warning.
I am going to talk about my suicide attempt. I will be going through the months and days before the attempt, I will also tell you about what happened after. First, I want to say I am not glorifying or promoting suicide. This is just my story.
By Jeremy White12 months ago in Psyche
Life is Like Waves
I thought facing my inner demons that have haunted me since high school was a challenge. But now I realize there is just one more skeleton in the closet I needed to finally face and bury the last thing that brought me the most gut-wrenching pain I’ve ever felt. I thought high school was a challenge, but nothing came close to preparing me for what I would eventually endure in college. I originally thought after moving away to go to college in the deep south would be a fresh start for me. It was just me and only 2 other people from my high school were going to the same college, and at least I can say those two never did anything wrong to hurt me.
By Joanna Blaze12 months ago in Psyche
A Million Tiny Diamonds. Runner-Up in The Metamorphosis of the Mind Challenge.
There are always moments that define you as a person. We have been conditioned to never admit to weakness because, in the shame of bad judgement, the metaphorical fingernails of others can get a hold on you from the chink you've exposed by sharing your confession. You can then be prised open, your vulnerability there for all to see, to be poked and prodded mercilessly by a metaphorical stick held and being controlled by the will of another. And what would be the result of that poking? It would let the shame out, the dampener and the twister of all emotions which transforms people into ogres, which we try and subdue, putting it into the darkest corners of ourselves.
By Rachel Deeming12 months ago in Psyche
