Stream of Consciousness

The Self-Appreciation Challenge: The Entries
Running this challenge has been tons of fun so far. We received way more entrants than anticipated. At first I thought this was going to fail because several pepole mentioned that this was a really hard challenge to do. But in the end 29 people came through with some great entries.
By Rick Henry Christopher about a year ago in Writers
UNNAMED [Chapter 8- “This is What Peace Feels Like”]. Content Warning.
⚠️ Content Warning: This chapter contains themes of self-harm and suicidal ideation. Reader discretion is advised. Chapter 8- “This is What Peace Feels Like”
By Nebulaabout a year ago in Writers
Who Am I?
Who am I? You are You. I spent the day deciding what to do with it. You did three things you like before lunch. I watched a show my algorithm suggested.
By jonathan carverabout a year ago in Writers
Another Gorgeous Lonely Day
He wakes up early to grab someone not there, The loneliness sets in so he’ll open insta and float away, On another gorgeous lonely day.
By jonathan carverabout a year ago in Writers
Need Vocal Media Views?
How to Increase Views on Vocal Media: A Complete Guide Vocal Media has become an increasingly popular platform for writers to share their stories, opinions, poems, and expertise. You need views whether you're using Vocal to express your creative side, build your portfolio, or earn money through reads and bonuses. Getting views on Vocal Media isn’t just about writing well—it’s about understanding how the platform works, what readers are looking for, and how to make your content stand out in a sea of voices. If you’re looking to boost your story visibility and grow your readership, this guide is for you.
By Dr Sazidul about a year ago in Writers
Finding an Audience. Top Story - May 2025.
I write because I have things I want to say. I want to be read. My words might soothe. They might articulate the complex. They might provide escapism into other’s lives. They might have an emotional truth. They might make people laugh.
By Rachel Robbinsabout a year ago in Writers
strange but delicious foods
Strange But Delicious Foods Around the World You Must Try Have you ever tasted something so bizarre that you couldn’t decide whether to love it or hate it? Across the globe, cultures have developed unique dishes that might seem strange at first but are surprisingly delicious. From fermented delicacies to unusual animal parts, these foods challenge culinary norms while offering unforgettable flavors.
By Sabina Islamabout a year ago in Writers
Foolish Queens.
ONE Throne room. Attendants speak to the queen. She is young, supposedly inexperienced. A soldier enters; his time on the battlefield is recent, obvious. Disgust from the attendants. He is rugged and hardened, but kind. He behaves without proper royal formalities.
By Ruby Redabout a year ago in Writers
The mask of civilization
The pride of England, the heritage of the United Kingdom, the light of the British Empire—these words bring to mind a long chapter in world history, where it is said how the British brought civilization to dark countries. But no one has kept track of how much barbarity, how much bloodshed, how much ethnic cleansing was carried out in the name of bringing this ‘civilization’. Even today, Britain gives opinions on various countries in the name of human rights, democracy, and civilization, intervenes, and sometimes condemns them—but its own history has always been one of cruelty, deceit, exploitation, and a constant attempt to destroy immature nations.
By Abdul Barikabout a year ago in Writers
UNNAMED (Chapter 7- "Not A Dream"). Content Warning.
UNNAMED Chapter 7- "Not A Dream" "She walked like she belonged here. I stood like I'd been dragged back. The dead were silent, but she spoke like she knew them all by name."
By Nebulaabout a year ago in Writers
Ink-Stained Petals
The more I stand to lose, the more I hesitate to hold. And isn’t that the cruel contradiction of wanting love? Scattered pages surround me, thoughts I’ve written and rewritten, marked by ink and fear. And right in the middle—like a drop of blood in snow—rests a single rose. Whole. Beautiful. Alone. That’s what love often feels like to me. Not the giddy, movie-scene type. But the love that exists in quiet questions and daydreams—sometimes romantic, sometimes desperate. I’ve spent years nurturing this garden inside me, sowing seeds of platonic love, self-compassion, and healing. And just when I think a new bloom is ready to rise, the wind of doubt shakes everything loose again. Rejection never visits quietly in my world. It arrives like a storm, tearing through my sense of self. I’ve tried to armor myself with logic, with realism. I told myself I wasn’t scared of being abandoned—I was just cautious. Just smart. But therapy has a way of peeling those layers off. What I thought was charm, turned out to be survival. What I thought was stoicism, turned out to be buried sadness. It’s embarrassing, really. To admit how much I still hurt. To confess that at times, I imagine perfect lovers just so I don’t have to face the imperfect ones. That maybe I crafted someone in my head—a collage of features, habits, and ideals—to shield myself from disappointment. They live between these pages, written in lines too poetic for the real world. Safe. Unreachable. Mine. But even as I protect myself, a part of me still hopes. There’s a teenage girl tucked somewhere in the attic of my soul. She’s gentle, dreamy, and foolishly brave. She wants slow dances in living rooms and love letters folded into jacket pockets. And though I often tell her to hush—to grow up—she persists. She refuses to give up on love. Not just any love, but the kind that chooses her back, over and over. And sometimes I wonder: if I’m still so full of longing, is it possible that I haven’t given up either? What scares me more than heartbreak is the thought that I may never even try again. That I may settle into this role of being the one who always gives, always reaches, always initiates. Maybe I’m tired. Maybe this time, I want to be pursued. To be the one whose name is written across someone else’s scattered pages. To be wanted without asking. Is that too much? I think not. I think there is courage in saying, this time, I won’t be the first one to bend. Maybe that’s not weakness or stubbornness—but healing. A quiet rebellion against all the times I chased ghosts and called them lovers. So I sit here now, among the pages, with the rose of my own becoming. I think about how I’ve filled notebooks with versions of love that never arrived, and how maybe… that’s okay. Maybe they were never meant to. Maybe writing them was how I stayed soft in a world that asked me to harden. I don’t know what love will look like when it finds me next. But I know it won’t be perfect, and I won’t be either. Still, I’ll be ready—not desperate, not broken—but open. Because in all this uncertainty, there is one truth I’ve come to trust: I am not unlovable. I am just waiting for the kind of love that doesn’t feel like survival. So let this rose lie here—bold, fragile, whole. Not waiting to be picked, but simply blooming where it was placed. Because love isn’t about being chosen. It’s about being seen. And I’m ready to be seen.
By Usman Ali about a year ago in Writers
Personal Growth, And What About Going Out To A Party Alone
The Book of Questions, by Gregory Stock, Ph.D prompts — You are invited to a party that will be attended by many fascinating people you’ve never met. Would you want to go if you had to go by yourself?
By Denise E Lindquistabout a year ago in Writers