BrainScramble Magazine. The world through our eyes. Toronto & Berkeley. Latest BSToronto i17: MEND, out now.
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Thin For a Day
(CW: body image, dysphoria, dieting for medical issues, disordered thinking) What does it mean to be fat? Recently, I watched The Devil Wears Prada for the first time ever. I know, I’m uncultured. It really was a perfect movie. Almost perfect. Something that struck me during the viewing and stayed with me long after was…
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Cut me
A blanket of tranquility with the ability to burn Vessel of the universe’s infinite stardust Rim red, around my moon, tides the ocean churns Smutty jest and intimacy eclipse lust Be my earthly companion to trodden this opulent orb and sprout spring flowers Your voice like a hymn because divinity is within you Drown my…
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Fishing Trip
“Why not?” Disappointing, yes. But I should have known that when you ask a simple question, you get a simple answer. He is sitting with me, on the edge of the river. Watching the water go by. Letting it rush past his feet as they dangle on the surface. It is only now that I…
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Media’s Commodification of Yassification
To exist in the limelight is to understand that you will be pictured in a homoerotic relationship.
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other people’s clothes
a poem by Sipora West This poem was written to compliment my zine, other people’s clothes. other people’s clothes explores self-image, comfort, alienation, and comparison through the lens of clothing. You can read the full zine on my website, siporawest.com. I am an amalgamation of girls I have fallen in love with Girls with silk…
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On Girlhood and Other Lies
Girl is not to woman as boy is to man. Boy becomes man when he turns eighteen, girl becomes woman when man no longer wants to fuck her. To escape the label of ‘girl’ is to be respected but not desired.
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You Are Not A Femcel – a rant
You are not a femcel. You are a victim.
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The Life and Death of Panic! At the Disco (Or Why You Should Listen to Ryan Ross Instead)
Modern artistic society has contorted the unassuming adverb “objectively” into its very own Frankenstein’s monster, with no way of reversing the cataclysmic effect this word may have on an artist’s work.
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Intimacy
and there we were together, in the dark, frantic and fearful. she smelt like sweet hair conditioner and sunshine and vanilla. i could feel every breath escaping her lips and sweep past my shoulders.
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His Champion – Narrative
I didn’t know my grandfather very well. He lived an inspirational life; too bad I didn’t know that while he was still here.
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A letter from BrainScramble
For as long as I can remember, my writing has been inexorably intertwined with my life. The “notes” app on my cellphone is bursting at its seams with locked letters of love, hardship and poetry. The people in my life have all made it into my writing, one way or another, whether it be in…
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Daredevil – a Narrative
“Maomao, don’t be such a Màoshīguǐ.” My mother said. Màoshīguǐ is Mandarin for “Daredevil”, a reckless person who enjoys doing dangerous things. Admittedly, this etymology fits me like a glove. When I was six, she cried over my bruises after I slid down the stairs in a zipped-up laundry basket, while I only craved another…
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The Alt-Right Media and its Political Figures are Dangerously Charismatic
Looking back at when I was at the age of 13 years old, I was the type of person I would hate now. I had very bigoted opinions. As a matter of fact, I fostered very conservative views; I trashed on feminism, and said many things that should’ve never came out of my mouth. If…
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Second Choice
i have always been the second choice. my daddy would choose cigarettes and anger over his little girl – the red hot anger consuming him so deeply that he didn’t care who his fire would burn i did everything in my power to make him love me dancing in the dark kitchen with him –…
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Don’t Show Up at Your Favourite Streamers House: How Live Streaming Services Are a Brewing Ground for Parasocial Relationships
For as long as there have been celebrities, people have formed intense attachments to them and their lives.
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An Angrier Rendition of “Yellow Fever”
Yellow was my favourite colour. I splashed my bedroom walls with it, despite my parents’ best protests. I wore it around everywhere, even when I was told it clashed with my skin colour. To me, yellow has always been a representation of the warmth from the sun’s rays, the epitome of compassion and light – …
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Kill Your Kids! Just Kidding, But Only a Little.
I hate kids. I hope I never have kids. My hatred for children is so intense that only a few months ago, I was voted as “most likely to name their child Gilgamesh out of spite.” However, my distaste for children goes further than my dislike for their blameless stupidity and high maintenance. I pity…