Category: Issue #3
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Garden Room Reflections
If I had a garden of mirrors would one tell me what I look like would one tell me what to do would one tell me if I mumble too much would one tell me my faults would one tell me my future would one tell me how to stick it to the man (properly)…
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Female Rage in Modern Media ; Why it Feels so Familiar
“…Cool Girls are above all hot. Hot and understanding. Cool Girls never get angry; they only smile in a chagrined, loving manner and let their men do whatever they want. Go ahead, shit on me, I don’t mind, I’m the Cool Girl.” Gillian Flynn, Gone Girl Above is an excerpt from the iconic Amy Dunne…
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Addressing Your Thoughts
I have a stack of shoeboxes in my room that contain things to make me cry. Cry, and smile, and reflect, and experience what seems like every feeling I may have ever felt. One is a box of letters––the second shoebox in the stack that sits next to my bookshelf. And no, this is not…
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Childhood Closure; A Personal Story
When I was little, I dreaded art class. I hated the walls of the basement, I hated the brushes and ink and markers, and I hated the paint-stained sink. I hated how my colours would look murky and bland, and how my awkward brushstrokes looked like child’s play instead of the next Van Gogh painting.…
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No One Wants to See Your Arms!
CW: Body Image & Eating Disorders “I wish I could wear short sleeves like you. No one wants to see your arms when you get to this age”. I have become a mere figment onto which elderly women take great pleasure in projecting their insecurities. I find myself being either unsolicitedly talked at, or uncomfortably…
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HOUSE OF THE DEAD
My grandma’s going to die soon. Nobody wants to say it, but we all know the day will come. It’s just a matter of time. Growing up, my family would drive half an hour to my grandma’s house every Saturday, and continued to do so until COVID put an end to such adventures. But I…
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Ophelia
Ophelia of the lonely lake, can you hear me as I do you? You are in my mind, and you are miming my death Again. And Again. And Again. Ophelia of the mourning mountains, night before last, I dreamt I was a star shining and shooting with infinity above. But when I woke, I saw…
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Sex and Death
As I sit on the red velvet couch of my friend’s apartment, I notice the opulence of it all. The gold rimmed mirrors, floor to ceiling windows, and 4×6 rug on her living room floor must have cost a fortune. Living like this in downtown Toronto is incredibly impressive, especially as a 24 year old.…
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The Undead
I knew I was undead when I looked in the mirror and saw that my skin was bare. When I ran my fingers down my smooth, soft cheek, and felt no cuts, no wrinkles, no blemishes. Not a flaw to be felt, not a sign to be seen that life had made its mark. I…
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Reclaiming my Love for Music in a Digital Streaming World
Spring 2022 I just finished my free trial with Apple Music. Honestly, the one thing I’ve taken away is that music and how I listen to it simply isn’t fun. Having to switch back to Spotify, it’s whatever – no difference. On all of these streaming services, the spiel stays the same: I listen to…
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winter air
you are the cold and frigid; winter air. deprived of warmth and dry on my skin-flaking neck. i am not one to cower away from the touch of air, it is a necessity, after all. but now i want to block off all my pores, and hold my breath forever. you took my clean warm…
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Sports and Sexism are Best Friends
In 2012, the International Boxing Association proposed a motion for mandatory skirts for female competitors, citing that women and men looked too similar in the sport. In 2019, Serena Williams was reprimanded for wearing a catsuit for increased blood flow after a challenging pregnancy instead of the standard tennis skirt. The French Tennis Federation then…
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Lonely, Vol. 1
Do lonely people know they’re lonely? Do they acknowledge the truth of their existence? When one is lonely, is their loneliness an ever present companion? Does loneliness tag along like a clingy first love, causing one to beg to be alone? Can one accept loneliness, nod heads and shake hands, and drift through life with…
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Dear Father
Everyday, I look in confusion and distraught at the crayon scribbles escaping from where your mouth should be. I try to make sense of them somehow, but the lines never connect; the pieces won’t fit together. Perhaps I tend to ignore them. To tell you the truth, I recognize and hear the monsters spewing your…
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Augustine – the new manic pixie dream girl
(please note, I use the word love very loosely) August. I love August. I love the way the letters roll off of my tongue, I love the nervous anticipation for the next school year, I love the way we gather like moths to a porch light in protest of summer’s end. I spent my August…
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Getting Dressed, the Great Dilemma
(CW: heavy discussion of eating disorders) I have never not cared about my outfit. I have never not wanted to be skinny for equally as long. I distinctly remember the first time I chose my appearance over my comfort. I was six – it was early November, and the winter chill had just started to…