Category: Toronto
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I am a narcissist.
Every counselor I’ve ever talked to has told me that I’m very humble. Every teacher I’ve ever had knows me as quiet and unassuming. Many of my peers would describe me as mysterious and out-of-the-spotlight. I don’t really try to be. I don’t intend to act humble, I just say what I believe. I don’t…
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Foreign Appetite – A Short Story
The instance I awoke from surgery I wailed loudly from the inscrutable pain at the doctors who—after inspection—said nothing was physically wrong with me. But I knew from that intense hunger in my chest that something was off—that a new heart was not the only thing put inside me. I couldn’t sleep for almost the…
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Cultural Impermanence
I was an avid reader and started at the age of 2. At first, my books consisted of illustrations of cartoon people and animals but soon evolved into words imprinted on a tiny book. Despite the differences between the two, they all shared a similar trait: being engraved in Chinese. My first language growing up…
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blue butterfly.
in the midst of summer, i lay where the mossy grass paints my shoes green, and the warm winds breeze through my silhouette, lays the most riveting creature i’ve ever seen. that day on july 16. your wings grace my cheek so lovingly, the touch so homely, as you brush my hair back and wipe…
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a beautiful plea
This beautiful plea knows the bounds of this page. The blood that you gave me that flows Through my suffocated skin, Is like waterfalls through a poisoned pool. Black and blue and dead all over. I am writing and painting pictures and poems for you to see. Come and take a walk through my pathetic…
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The Autumnal Equinox
Dear September 24, 2022, I hope you’re getting this in time. This letter has been long overdue. Even in the midst of summer, I couldn’t stop thinking of you. Just a month ago, sunscreen slathered and bug bitten, I pretended to indulge in freedom—in fantasy. I soaked in lake water until it reached my bloodstream,…
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Autumn Rain
In my room I wait, hopeful eyes turned up to a hopeless abyss. I sit at my window, as silent and still as the glass pane through which I gaze. My hands, busy on my lap, play a silly little game of twisting and pulling—a game that shall never be won or lost, so long…
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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…