Franz Kafka was a cute little boy–the only surviving son of prosperous parents. Many photos from his childhood make clear their pride and affection.
Later, a metamorphosis began. Kafka’s first published work was a diatribe against his family’s noisiness. He wrote a long denunciation of his father, showed it to his mother, and asked her to deliver it–she refused. Kafka continued to live in, and to complain about, his parents’ apartment for most of his life.
I don’t think we need to explore Kafka’s “fundamental metaphysical fear, uncertainty, and alienation” to understand the central image of “Metamorphosis”–
“My-parents-stopped-seeing-me-as-their-darling-son-and-started-seeing-me-as-a-hideous-bug!”
My own delightful children never make me think about hideous bugs, except maybe when Mira gives me cool insectoid presents or Amity blogs about beetles rolling balls of dung by moonlight!