Latest Stories

Most recently published stories in Psyche.

Forged by Fire and Rubble
I've heard artists talk about how certain pieces they've made are meant to evoke walking through the rubble of your own life. That's poetic, isn't it? But, have you every actually walked through the rubble of your own life? I have. The moments, in retrospect, can indeed be poetic imagery. However, in the moment, I could not think about beauty. All I could think about was the savage nature of chaos, loss, and trying to find my grandmother's ashes. When that failed, I wanted to see if I could find something, anything, that I could salvage.
By Mimi Sonner4 years ago in Psyche
These Boots Were Made for Learning
I bought the boots. Yes, THOSE boots. The ones I saw on all of the impossibly thin, impossibly elegant women I passed on my way to work every day. THE fall boots of the Upper East Side. The boots of the woman I imagined I wanted to be. Glossy, yet understated. Subtle. Nothing like the supposedly “rich” ladies out in the suburbs, covered in logos and purchased at thirty percent off at an outlet store. No, these boots were refined, the kind of boots you wore on an autumn excursion to the family lake house.
By Stephanie Ruth4 years ago in Psyche
Soap and Water
My brother was sick. I didn't know exactly what was wrong with him. I heard the word "cancer" mentioned, so I assumed that was it. He didn't look well at all. He was extremely thin and kind of yellowish-looking with bruises all over his face. His name was Tom, and he was eighteen years my senior. It was 1989. I was 10 years old.
By Heather Cumbo4 years ago in Psyche
A Small Victory
I still wonder how anyone gets through their adolescence. I had heard statistics as a young man about the suicide rate among us, and also knew about all the dangers out there that would eventually claim many in my circle of friendships and family (death, jail, drugs, disappearance, etc.)
By Kendall Defoe 4 years ago in Psyche
Little Moments
I have sat and actually said to people I didn't know what it was like to be happy. That I have never truly been happy. Those words left my mouth on more than one occasion. However as I sit here today trying to think of something to write about, I keep coming back to these little moments I wish would have lasted longer. Moments I would love to have again. They replay in my mind now like a movie long lost and out of production. One that I've searched everywhere for but cannot find.
By Melissa Wilson4 years ago in Psyche
Stuck
So I am working on healing myself. Writing more poems. Working on this blog. Trying to be okay in a marriage when I have more trust issues than a wild animal backed into a corner. I don't know why I let myself get into another relationship. I thought I was ready I really did. I worked on myself. I stayed single. He wore me down with sweet words and trying to get to know the real me. I thought I had made sure he was ready for the hot mess that was my psyche. He wasn't. No one ever really could be really. I don't know why I believed him. Something about wanting to get to know my soul.....Cheesy I know but I was so hopeful. I really wanted to be with him. He had tried to get a date for a year. I kept putting him off. Telling him I was dating when I wasn't just to keep myself safe from another painful letdown. But somehow here I am.
By Melissa Wilson4 years ago in Psyche
The Imperfect Life
Please note: mental health themes throughout 1. I turned right into the local shopping centre car park and found myself circling around the same parking bay twice, and still without a park when a young woman caught my eye. Dressed alternatively, in what exactly, I don’t know. I don’t know fashion, but I knew it wasn’t the norm. As I looked out above my dashboard, she briefly glanced my way as she returned a trolley just four or five metres in front of my car. You know that feeling when you know someone from somewhere but you’re not sure where? - It’s an instant recognition but then BOOM - the brain freezes and you’re not sure from where and when this person is from. She had the same recognisable graceful manner, so light on her feet, yet more wieldy and purposeful than I remembered. Uh, that’s right, I thought. Is she still on anti-psychotics? Does she even need those? They screw you over until you wish you were dead - but you can’t feel anything or think clearly enough to know any better. Had she spoken to Josh? I wondered if she was still single?
By Grz Colm4 years ago in Psyche
Night Walker
I’d say it started in my preteens. I know how it came to be; in order to try to watch early morning cartoon and anime episodes, I would set an alarm. In the beginning, I’d set it half an hour to an hour out from the episode. This was to allow myself a few minutes each to coax myself from beneath the warm covers, use the restroom, sneak downstairs, and get settled.
By Megan Baker (Left Vocal in 2023)4 years ago in Psyche
False Martyr
Though it was all an illusion you created a space of torment and lies. Undeniable at this point and I watch as you fumble in a panic. You left no choice as you committed the crimes of ultimate sin. Something you always said was punishable by death. Here you are left to your own devices. A shallow grave holds what barely remains. This will be slow and painful for you. Worse than that is the legacy you will leave is mostly damage and hate. You were abandoned for you lack of ability to be anything but a tyrant. A false martyr dressed in unholy malice. You are a carrier of a disease created long ago in the blood line. I was put here to end it. To erase it. I will watch this fire until it is done. Completely dissolved into atoms of ash and relief.
By Samuel Bitner4 years ago in Psyche
It Is All Downhill from Here
It Is All Downhill from Here By Kami Bryant (This really happened. Truth is stranger than fiction sometimes) “No man is worth dying for,” said the police officer sitting on my apartment stairs. I did agree with him, I didn’t really want to die. I wanted the pain to go away. Plus, I wanted to get my ex-boyfriend’s attention. So, I drank half a fifth of rum on the day he dumped me and then I finished the bottle of rum the next day. To top it off, I took four or five Wellbutrin. I am not sure of the actual amount; it is all a blur. Then, I called him. He came and brought the cops with him. He told them I was attempting suicide. I told the police that he was lying.
By Kami Bryant4 years ago in Psyche
Awareness
People used to ask me “What changed you? What happened in your life that made you realize you only have yourself?” When I was thirteen years old someone in my family sexually assaulted me. When I was that age I had no clue what sexual assault was. I just knew afterwards I was never the same. A few days after the situation happened I was starting to crave the feeling again. I was so confused as to why I was fiending for it. I knew it hurt the first time, but it was something about it that made it so thrilling. It was something about sex that had me addicted to it. When I turned 14 I started to have sex again, but this time it was with people from my school. Yes, I said people, as in more than one. At that age I really wasn’t aware of the dangers of sexual transmitted diseases or sexually transmitted infections. I had no clue it was serious enough that it could kill me, so at that age I was having sex with anyone I wanted to have sex with. I didn’t have my first real relationship until I turned 16, so I was just going around giving up something that was so sacred and precious. I had to find out on my own about the dangers of sex. I never took it seriously until I caught a STI. At the age of 15 I realized I was a sex addict. It was like that was the only thing I wanted to do. For a long time I hated myself. I didn't know what was wrong with me. I didn’t know how to heal from getting raped, I didn’t know who to talk to because my mom used to tell my business to her friends, so I never wanted to tell her anything. When I got raped the first person I told was my sister. My sister told my mom and that’s how she found out, but then she went and told a whole bunch of people. At the time I didn’t know how wrong my mom was, but something in me didn’t trust her for a reason. When I really needed my mom she wasn’t there, but she was there when she wanted to be. She was always caught up in her relationships. She was always caught up with her other family members. It felt like she only cared about me when she felt like it. Growing up I really had to learn how to communicate my feelings on my own, I had to learn how to say no to sexual activities, and I had to learn who I was on my own. My whole life I was alone. This is not a bad thing and it’s certainly not the worst thing in the world because I got through it. I’ve learned from it and I apply a lot of what I learned to my daily life. I realize self love comes before anything and anyone else. I now know I shouldn’t allow anyone to touch me in that way if they don’t genuinely care about me.
By Nala4 years ago in Psyche
Hospital
The first night and the last night I was admitted to a mental institution were 8 years apart. The first night was a crumbled piece of lined paper, streaked with pencil smudges and the edges still ripped from the notebook. I still see my sister sitting in the waiting room for me, as she always did, attached to my side and my partner in crime. The last night was an officer dragging me from my front door, without a bra and waving with a kitchen knife swollen wrist.
By Nicole Cafarelli4 years ago in Psyche