BrainScramble Magazine. The world through our eyes. Toronto & Berkeley. Latest BSToronto i17: MEND, out now.
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I Am A Five-Letter Word
The names in this article have been altered to maintain privacy. “Come on, we’re gonna be late!”, Sophie whispered. It was 1:58pm on a Wednesday. Our routine Strings rehearsals were at 2:00pm, and we were going to be late for the first time ever. I was rarely late—even obsessively early in my strive to receive…
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Anne The Reverend
It hurt me to see the pain in her eyes—the genuine fear that her baby wasn’t going to the same place as she was after death. I tried not to feel pity for the ignorance and illusionment she might live in because that would make me no better.
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Puppy Love
Chiara, Chloe, & Mel Chloe & Oschi Zane & Scout V & Dallas Rachel & Ollie
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How To Be An Angry Woman
He pushed me backwards and turned around. His retreating footsteps were muted by the sound of my fingers rummaging through rocks for one aptly sized for my seven-year-old fist. Before I could think too hard about it, I wound up my arm and threw the rock as hard as I could. I missed.
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Maybe I’m Not Burning Out – Maybe I’m Just Lazy. (Gifted Kid Burnout and Other Lies I Tell Myself)
By Elisa Penha I was diagnosed as gifted when I was seven. Diagnosed. That’s the wording they used—like I was ill. My second-grade teacher had pulled me aside into a small office in the hallway next to the school library, sat me down across from her desk, and made me answer strange riddles and play…
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Waiting for a Kiss to Become Magic
Celia closed her eyes, anticipating a magnetic moment, a magnificent chemical reaction. The way Lucy described kissing men. It’s not that Celia hadn’t kissed men before -she had kissed quite a few. But she never felt fireworks go off in her gut the way Lucy promised she would feel, so Celia always hoped that the…
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A Philosopher and Her Stupid Fat Cat
i arrive home. the lock to my condo jams and i spend a few seconds shimmying my key aggressively. as i do so, i can hear incessant meowing from the other side of the door before it finally clicks open. my cat is waiting in the hallway for me as he always does. the moment…
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a case for november
i’ve always thought that the month of november receives an unfair amount of criticism.
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Becoming Human
I used to cry a lot when I was younger, whether it was to vent sadness, anger, or frustration. Despite that, I never understood people who seemed to get teary-eyed over everything; minor inconveniences, major successes, movie scenes, music. None seemed to be particularly emotionally provocative. Growing up, I was always told that boys don’t…
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Better oblivion community center: a track-by-track retrospect
imagine, if you will, a town. in this town, high on a hill, is a structure so menacing that children write folk tales about it. it has become a monster of its own. it eats up the town crazies and never lets them out.
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Dylan Minnette – Please Don’t Fuck This Up.
Please note. I wrote this article before Lydia Night announced she and Dylan Minnette had split romantically, and this piece was in no way influenced by said events– I have not added to it, and these remain my original thoughts, untainted by this news. It is crucial to respect the privacy of both Dylan Minnette…
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I Never Even Got to Finish Decorating My Walls
The cedar-coloured bed belongs against the northern wall. The bed is low, so a strip of white paint is visible between the bamboo mattress and the double windows. Upon examination, one may notice tiny pinpricks dotting the wall, proof of nails once wedged there.
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I Took the SAT Three Times and I Still Wasn’t Good Enough – Letters from an Inadequate Academic
Author’s Note: this is possibly the most vulnerable thing I have ever written on the internet, and I think that’s saying a lot—especially for me. My near-death experiences, relationship drama, and connection with my culture have all been aired for the public to see. But this, this feels scarier. This feels different.
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My Sexuality Was Never Mine
I’ve never been straight, at least in the eyes of others. It feels like my sexuality has never been free. I am just another person unable to break out of the assumptions of sexuality. But I know that my sexuality has changed and I can recognize that for myself. Even if no one else can…
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This Article Has No Author
By: A Hobbyist I asked 20 people to describe me as thoroughly as possible, and the responses resounded near-unanimously: They’re a musician. An athlete. An artist, writer, programmer, mathematician. An eccentric with a drive to create. These flattering and complimentary responses left a lopsided grin on my face, tainted by persistent feelings of emptiness and…
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Winter Waves
Oh, how I love the soundthat waves make in winter.A deep breath—a quiet roar,frozen in the depths of emotion. Blue with veins of black,and a heart that isblacker still.The beat of the sea is a songfull of sorrow from the soul of the Earth. In summer,the sea is angry.Vicious,it storms and it sinks,swallowing pills of…
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People of power
Amongst the vast sea,we provide contrastin the most undesirable manner. We are called people of colour.We are sweet-toothed tamarinds bathed in irresistible pink salt.We are sugared in unsolicited oppositionas cloying torment is supplied in packaged goodsto cover up the fact thatwe are the minority. Beloved home travelling on the distant compassand we remain where familiarity…
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Incapable
By: Monica Lin I am a romantic.A hopeless, stupid, romantic.Consuming media like it ismy second heartbeat;A piggyback heart.An octopus. Eight arms devouring romance in the form of hearts;tearing the tissues apart to slurp the blood all up.Noodle soup, a warm homely meal. Romantics are set up for failure.Romantics will lie to themselves.Romantics are in the…