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The Metamorphosis of the Mind
Prologue Before the world begins to change around us, the most profound revolutions occur within. In the deepest chambers of the mind—where fears whisper, dreams flicker, and memories fold into silence—true metamorphosis takes place. This is the story of a man who, in forgetting who he was, learned who he could become.
By Malik Kashifabout a year ago in Psyche
Pool of Mauve
Starting to understand that I’m transgender was more difficult than I imagine. As I didn’t question my gender until I was twenty-seven. Or at least as far as I remember it was when I was twenty-seven. Maybe it was a bit sooner than that. But my memories are sort of failing me.
By Raphael Fontenelleabout a year 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 Diazabout a year ago in Psyche
Finding Freedom in Simplicity
In a world filled with endless options, we often find ourselves overwhelmed by the sheer number of decisions we need to make every day. From selecting what to wear to deciding which task to prioritize, the constant flow of choices can drain our energy and focus. While many believe that more options provide empowerment, the truth is that having fewer choices can lead to greater productivity, mental clarity, and success. In this article, we’ll delve into how reducing the number of decisions you make daily can boost your focus, improve your well-being, and help you achieve a more fulfilling and balanced life.
By Fahad Khanabout a year 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. For as long as I can remember, I’ve lived in this small town where pretty much nothing happens. The same routines, the same voices. The rustling trees and flapping bird wings. It’s almost like everything here is on a loop. But that’s going to change this summer. After years of drifting through high school like a background character, nearly invisible, it’s time for the bigger world. I’ll be spending the summer working part-time at a bookstore—maybe the introvert in me just needs more stories to thrive on. I’m counting the days until college, until a fresh start. A new life. Love has always felt distant—something other people feel. Not me. It’s always been just me, in my small, quiet world. Here's the start of my story. Or maybe I should call it my tragic love story. I met Rowan—a pretty boy with messy curls and eyes full of light—an 18-year-old who’d come into town for the summer to stay with his aunt. Something about him hinted at a past he didn’t talk about. Maybe he was sent here to "get away" or just to breathe. He was everything I wasn’t: spontaneous, magnetic, unapologetically alive. Too bubbly for my quiet energy. We met in an ordinary way. In the bookstore. He walked in just as I was walking out. Our shoulders almost brushed. We made eye contact, and something in the air shifted. The silence between us was loud. But we didn’t say a word. Just a brief glance, then he walked away. Over the next few weeks, he kept showing up at the bookstore. Some days he bought books. Other days he just wandered, humming old songs or doodling in his sketchpad. Then one day, he asked me what I thought about a book. We started talking and found out we liked the same obscure novels, the same tragic endings. It was the first thing we had in common—maybe the only thing. From that day on, we were inseparable. Bike rides. Late-night calls. Shared secrets. Hourly texts. First kisses. He challenged me—pushed me to step out of my comfort zone. “Be wild,” he used to say with a grin. “Break rules. Take little risks. Live a little, bookworm.” And I did. How could I not? I was into him. Fully, helplessly, beautifully into him. He was my safe place, my spark, my everything. For the first time in my life, I felt seen. Finally understood. But even in our happiest moments, a quiet sadness hovered in the background. Rowan was leaving at the end of summer. We never promised each other forever… But it sure felt like we had it. I prayed he’d stay. Wished it every night. In my dreams, in my silences. My heart ached at the thought of goodbye. But Rowan had always been chasing something bigger—art school, freedom, healing. He was made for the sky. I was just one summer sunset. It wasn’t a fight. Just the slow ache of reality settling in. Every laugh, every kiss came with a countdown. There were so many questions I never asked. Because I already knew the answers. Our last night together was simple. Quiet. We danced under the stars in a field we always biked to. His hands on my waist. My head on his shoulder. The air thick with hope and fear. And when we kissed… it felt like the end of something beautiful. He left the next morning. But he left behind a small box—inside it, sketches of me laughing, a playlist of our favorite songs, and a letter. A letter that still makes my heart ache when I read it. I didn’t try to stop him. Some things are just too beautiful to hold onto. Now I’m in college. New town. New life. But I’ve changed. Braver. A little sadder. A little more alive. I haven’t fallen in love again. Maybe I never will. And that’s okay. Because that summer? It gave me everything. I was seventeen when I fell in love for the first—and maybe the last—time. And I carry that summer with me like sunlight on my skin. For ages and more to come. Some loves don’t stay. But they stay with you. Thanks so much for reading! If you enjoyed this story, feel free to leave a comment and hit subscribe so you never miss the next one! ✨
By Gift Abotsi about a year ago in Psyche
The Long and Lonely Road
Typically distinguishable landmarks blurred together, whizzing past my windshield as tears blinded my vision. The hum of the road and the rumble of my engine under my white knuckles tetherd me to the present. I was heartbroken and headed to a place I hoped to find familiarity and safety. Images of my confessing ex flashed in my mind’s eye, her attempts at rationalizing her actions echoing in my ears. I knew we had started to grow apart. I had attributed the growing distance between us to her crazy school schedule. She had been so dedicated and studious. I planned to make lots of alone time for us when she graduated, and even began to plant seeds of hope for a future together. I was stunned, frozen to my spot when she finally admitted she went to a strip club and got physical with a classmate. She tried to blame being intoxicated and she couldn’t “really quite remember” what happened, but I could see through her web of lies as it was being spun. After she left for work, I grabbed my keys and left in search of a shoulder. I badly needed one to cry on.
By Laura (Mea) Carlozzi about a year ago in Psyche
Into the Fade
Have you ever felt the world slip through your fingers, as though reality itself had softened, becoming as fluid and ungraspable as a dream? “Into the Fade” is more than a poetic phrase it describes a profound psychological and spiritual journey, where the boundaries of self and world dissolve, revealing a reality beyond the ordinary.
By Fahad Khanabout a year ago in Psyche
Life
To me : Life is a Voyage!Today, I see through it and feel the feels of all the probabilities that bring in change ! I am talking about the changes imminent in life. Call me a pilgrim or a hermit! That’s the due course my life is taking as I’m journeying through it all in all. And to keep the floors fully carpeted doesn’t hold good with me as I am at the verge of qualifying as a nomad—certainly—not vagabond! Also, there’s nothing like hop, skip, jump or let everything go into the wild either. No, it’s not like troublesome is my middle name. Well, there’s no sudden narcissism skipping about me in the form of “sure footedness,” here. This is a self reflection for sure. It’s just that ,basically, the aspect of the “saging -spirit,” booms—naturally in me than you might ever think. It’s like, as though, I have been waiting since, longer than “ever,” to quip about this matter as a vaguest reference to my hidden persona. And honestly, after framing my life this way,in all its authenticity, it hasn’t been easy. Nevertheless, the process in itself has been evocative. A sort of an invocation. So, coming forth in “every -which-way” is this —unknown grace—running through all my endeavors and escapades. Since birth, uniquely though, many factors, kept going the right way first,but then later, somehow, a hurricane force took its effect in shaping me anyways. These days, such long awaited fortitude of alignment is once again taking its favor upon me. It’s like hearing the winds chime, and thereby, I instantaneously cling to every beam of sun ( esp. the apricity and warmth in the winter sun ) as a familiar part of that occasion to awaken me. This is happening automatically and is quite momentously stunning! Another requisite thing simultaneously coming my way in defining “me as me,” —is this exquisite tailoring experiment that’s monopolizing and sporting odds against me to be otherwise. As an analogy if I could describe this phenomena, (whatever you may construe of it,) it does have the discretion to find me daring to make costumes( crafting) offhand. But, unfortunately I am very well away from being suitable to be any dress designer. In maneuvering such a predisposition, my predicament is to fit the fabric( of life,) to the general commotion of all the set expectancies.Yet, out of what is ordained,I have an intuitive inclination that eventually, I shall end up stitching half cut, sheared dresses like “Jattis or Lungotes,”(English translation : loincloth,) while most others rally after making large garments. Preceding was the vernacular lingo, binding me to my roots in all sincerity and sagacity. That’s me! So given such a fabric of life scaling me down to where I (naturally,) belong, I never astronomically fancied to see myself as something extraordinary —more so in worldly gains. Theretofore, I have chosen simple pleasures ( for myself,) than amply entering the furore of undue refinement of the worked up forces especially in the cross-cultural quarters. Thus started my journey into meditation 🧘🏽, in either its entirety or even in a minuscule manner, often wearing it as a breastplate ( more like armory,) to shield 🛡️ me against unexpected course. A necessity much beyond what others might need in order to feel totally alive ! To that, I must say this : remember, I have moved places and that calls for a different level of tenacity to correctly cope with the invisible strikings coming out of the unknown. And ever since, no occasion rises without me lighting an incense, an aspect to which, I could be taken as a stunning saint or an apocalyptic sage. So —there ends the matter. Summary: I was made of some other stuff —which I myself have been looking 👀 🫣at and researching for quite some time to understand myself fully. It’s a discovery pulling me to fall on limbs( not on all fours,) and climb along the walls to stand up to all odds. And as per Hindu philosophical thought 💭 ( I was birthed in that ambiance,) the term coined for this state of existence is : “Vanaprasthashram.” I am leaning towards it very astutely. Don’t know why?! I have always been —a notion and belief breaker and yet, the call for looking beyond the overtures has been alluring ever since. It’s a calling … certainly, where everything begins and ends in it. No question of not fitting in nor not belonging there. It’s befitting. However as I look at spirituality or try to define that aspect of my integral living—life has been a sort of observatory for me —with everyday—I looking at “spirit,”more and more intently, ever gathering those “river woods,” and looking through those easterly envisioned “chambered windows, “ to say: “ Where the h*ck are you almighty?!” A notion ringing me and electrically asking me to plunge into it for the sake of finding it. Admittedly, the glasses over my housed -tinted -windows ( not a legacy,) seem rightly tinted for me—much so, to see through them— just rightly and that is to say —not to look everything as all black nor all white. So that’s —so far so good , innit ?! Dear Reader, Apparently, there are more ways of saying the same thing over and over again … So here, I go describing my life —The Life, for me, tumbles over the good —in all its seriousness. Life, allegedly, has been a medley of cool breezes and terrific thunderstorms, and afterwards, a quarter section left to ground over earthy tones for rain to lodge its heavy gains. Thus generally speaking the rain, wind, thunder and lightening all have played a role in shaping this plain field of my life. For some time, came ice, blowing the furrows and the water troughs that held my gardened granary —in a sort of —cut off germinative state. But seeded so, I moved about every inches to a meter and each mile —primarily in search of ‘proper food and fodder, besides getting ferreted while clearing all grounds to make the germination possible. An absurd reality or a try ,I know! But that in itself has been an awakening! Consciously saying : There was a warmth that I had not known until the wheat, rice, bread and butter all coalesced to provide me with that basic sustenance—the grit and girth to follow through a natural course of destiny —meditative awakening. That’s it …. That’s me at my core —meta sized or metamorphasized. Whatever it is, all of us are born for that great noble reason to not cause accidents and not ruin anybody’s business. A determinism perhaps not to be overlooked! Yet, inadvertently, as I look around —whole nations, just straight up , are covered in heavy shockwaves due to the trade deficits, cutting humanity by the acres, on all fours to threes. A bitter Justice for those of us anyways who are about to enjoin or set afoot towards the monasteries. Yes, it’s again confusing and jittery. I am ,once again, about to immediately dispatch self to some observatory. And all tangled under thin and thickets of cursory glances, I could put some sweet in my tea ☕️ and call it honey 🍯 for that pure delight. But I won’t do that! So such so….Life passes me in a breeze. It bears upon me light feathers to glide me thro' smooth sails, yet sometimes, it floats above me like a looming flood, frantically winding me down to urgent halts —as though, pleading : STOP 🛑 look, listen, observe, learn and of course pause for a while! Therein, calming down, I take one step to the next; a cautious tread to pause and pray, and then, suddenly with gladdened hearts—pleased, I swing and sway. But, in all its bounds and bounties, life's goodly sometimes gently drifts away as though— far gone! Yet, by no manner of means, such a situation, doesn’t lingers on indefinitely….Everything changes. And, life goes on ! Again, for some : it's like the palm found wanting with nothing fitting in between. And the sifting fingers unable to hold on to those sands of time, just let them slip away. And with moments vanishing into nothingness, all along the ways, belonging and fitting into nothing, is truly happening. And to that methinks: this too shall pass. More like a spec in the dust all shall cast away. Then, over and beyond as my imagination sparks ⚡️ in :Then and there, a void shall creep in the future wherein, the reckless life, shall pause a bit and thereby, hurriedly stroll into a frenzied move—towards its next passage —eternity! Life shall birth and rebirth itself in more than many ways. Ah! Ha ! Who knows what “actually” will happen along its ways —A Metamorphosis, come what may,eh! Or is this —just a make belief to manifest something — of that grace in which faith, life, death and peace —whatever —comes along its way —casted or crafted —both seemingly—sanguine or salacious, as and when, something coming in to slowly duck 🦆 its way. 😅Even in paradoxes, life can be so bountiful, so unsparing, yet so rejoicingly exciting as well. O look —there ! There goes another LIFE with its flow on. Theretofore, once again, life shall unfold it's own mysterious ways as one day rolls into another. Ah! steadfast a pace! A flow—out and about—unto the river of existence, merging with the oceanic seas, forming one pieced synergy all the way. Life: One moment here and yet so rejoicingly looking over there. This, to some may seem like another LIFE vaguely rarified on other grounds; illusive and duly contrived.This too comes to me as I define me as me. The fact that I exist and persist —that in itself is LIFE —to me. Where to start and what to say more about life. It can get crazy busy on all fronts as though seeming like a big surprise to many. Life : It’s a course so rarified in its own illusive saga of tales that from it—experience c’d be drawn— for life itself ! Life in that sense becomes a circular narrative where the beginning and the end meet.And now, for heaven’s sake, please don’t call it life ends in death! Like they say : we exist even after the meaning in life seems long gone .. It’s there a new avatar — rebirths itself! © ✍️ Madhu Goteti April 13th , 2025
By Madhu Goteti about a year ago in Psyche
