I
Letter From the Editors In light of the passing of February, the month of love, all of us on the Continuist team would like to emphasize the importance of unconditionally loving and caring for yourself. Self-love is nurturing your body, giving it plenty of rest and comfort even when life is at its most hectic. Self-love is owning your beauty and your skill. Self-love is dressing in a way which makes you feel confident. Self-love is forgiving yourself when you make mistakes. You’re amazing and you know it. Thank you to everyone who contributed, we are extremely happy with how this zine turned out! We could not have done it without you! We look forward to hearing more from all of you in the future. Love always, Harleigh and Liana Co-editors at The Continuist
The Continuist is an online and print collective based out of Ryerson University. Our mission is to provide an outlet for artists to showcase their work, whether professional or amateur. This is a passion project, run by a lovely bunch of students who are committed to making and sharing art. Interested in submitting? Send us your work to thecontinuist@gmail.com and check our online submissions at thecontinuist.wordpress.com.
II
Self-love is (
)...
Learning how to say “no”–learning how to prop syllables between your lips, spit them out like bullets, and recover from the recoil. I have spent years choking on “no”–it sits on my tongue, melts onto my taste buds, and swells in my throat into silence–to be complaisant is to be quiet–to be pleasant to everyone but yourself–to be someone’s voiceless lapdog, sitting pretty–
“propriety” and “property” fuck each other into synonymy. Say “no”. Gag on the syllable–retch from your newfound agency–clit-flick yourself like it’s a political statement–make others
writhe in your selfsatisfaction.
- Kris Dionio III
Must Stay Strong When everything is going wrong, Remember that you must stay strong. You have not found yet what you seek And keep in mind, we’ve all been weak.
You look for what you hope to find, So hopefully some peace of mind. But know that peace will go away, Cause where you go you’ll never stay. So take a look at how you’ve grown, You are what you look for: unknown. - Julie Martinez Garcia
Stylist/Clothing/Art Direction: Honey (@Hxxni) , Photographer: Treschelle Gibson-Serrette (@Suppressed_intuition)
IV
Are you really loving YouRSelf * Anything lower than an 85% is a fail to me * You penetrate my mind with your expectations it was the deep power you held over me I have an ingrained scale of perfection in me burned on my soul My own expectations just rise with my age The overachiever Trying to do everything and anything right perfectly The five year life calendar Hangs above the bed A looming grime Reminder A Stop Watch Teaching *** Well, She’s now burnt out Relearn those priorities Have new standards Relax, decompose Breathe Easier to write these down on a cute sticky note and put on my mirror than cutting myself some slack Am I really loving MySelf?
- Jasmine Bhullar V
“In the Cosmos” - Charissa Olano
VI
Delight Round pink jewel star of my soul It comes in waves Circular The flesh aches not just a means
to an end
know it well Softness
Tingles ah
- Alex Pospisil
VII
- Jillian Gordon
VIII
- Liana Mortin
IX
From an Inside Plant I pity the poor houseplants in the custody of neglectful owners. With not enough to eat or
drink, stuffed into undersized pots, kept in the dark like mushrooms. Soil-bound hostages yearning to be free or at least be moved into the light. I stopped drugging my own soil with self-dis gust. Soaking in this aqueous bed over-saturated with bad thoughts, swallowing poison vehemently, leaves wilting, withering from excessive watering. A budding, burgeoning, blooming love affair, peeling opening embrace, something beautiful
is growing here. - Alexandrea Fiorante
X
- Jessica Suljic
XI
Raspberry Girl A self portrait Raspberry girl How can someone be so sour yet so sweet
So prickly yet so soft One moment, green with envy the next, blushing red with shame Sometimes this, sometimes that (you never did know how to find that place in between)
So eager to grow A single smile sends you soaring into skies of cerulean laughter So easily crushed A single touch, one sharp word and you cry your bright blood in delicate streams
warm rivulets pooling about your toes Always so quick to clean up the mess because they tell you that’s what it is A mess But I think you’re a canvas a chaotic smatter of satin pink and velvet moss Raspberry girl I swear I’m going to learn to love you if it takes a lifetime - Anonymous XII
Stylist/Clothing/Art Direction: Honey (@Hxxni) , Photographer: Treschelle Gibson-Serrette (@Suppressed_intuition)
Well. In my journey of finding self-love I am sorry if I have hurt you,
or made it hard for you to find love within me I am sorry that I did not make love what it should feel or be like for you. My love is a well that is only full enough for me to drink from And too deep to swim in,
Do not drown. - Santana Doran XIII
XIV
over x indulging
with the ease of sliding a finger, tonight, i “can’t” remember why i do the things i do.
something sweet, a type of forbidden nectar, has dripped down my throat clearing a path for me to say things i’ll probably regret.
i call it indulging because i’m letting myself do what i want to. yet, it’s over done because society told me not to.
kim rashidi
XV
I take self-photography in a desperate attempt to feel better about my body. I’ve struggled with body dysmorphia since I was 13 and I had to quit training as a figure skater. My body was deteriorating really quickly through over use and under rest but when I stopped training I became really reclusive. Between April & September my entire life changed and I put on almost 40 pounds. It took my years to get used my soft body. It wasn’t until I began appreciating my body through photography that I gained confidence and a deep sense of pride for everything it CAN do instead of hating it for what it can’t.
XVI
- Linds.chris
XVII
Stranger’s Discourse Time plays With those who dance in between Shades of midnight. The place The topic
The placement of hands and words Pull At our drawstrings. We play with intentions. Closeness and unmeasured distance, And the people who fill the time
Between last night and the next time. Space plays with The maybes and what ifs Between our fingers, That stay and hold Waiting for cues that never come. And you play With the “je ne sais pas” And I can’t help you with translation. But the space between your ears and neck Is enough To pull me in
And at least correct your pronunciation. Maybe that helps. - Michelle Moreira XVIII
“Lucifer’s Angel” by Jasmine Bhullar
XIX
Burning A candle that burns willful throughout the night
The flame needs and deserves to be pulled away From scorching her heart And taken into the future
So much like the fire burning into her mind;
Where so many wicks, so many Burning into her heart, and into sticks her soul Need to be ignited Rising higher and higher By a steady flame that she It’s out of control won’t extinguish That fire is raging and spiraling It took too long to get here – through To try to find beauty in the light The quick wisp of cleanliness again And she wishes she knew And not in the comfort of darkness How to reach out and grab it Without getting burned
Every time she tried to grasp for the light
How to blow the wind
And set fire to another branch
Ever so slightly,
The flame simply went back to where it began -
So that it might change the direction Of that erratic, yet relentless flame
Out of reach But she’s so sick of that Not controlling her flame XX
Now she’s going to reach out into it Without getting burned She will grab it, and take it ‘Fore it is all hers No one else sees the flame’s true beauty So it should only shine Onto her face and into the mind Of clarity and love – for the self as a whole
It is her flame, her flame She won’t be controlled She will grasp it, and take it Own it and love it
As she dances through it Basking in the light of the flame That is her own beauty
- Kayla Walden
XXI
- Catherine Cha XXII
An ode to the men who made a home inside my body without permission. Peek into my garden Take a look at what I’ve grown I have valleys and canyons that dip just for me
Bulbs of righteousness already sewn Peek into my garden For I made it just for me My sweet honey it drips onto the ground The product of a queen bee
Peek into my garden
Peek into my garden
You may stroll but never pick
You can look but you can’t touch
My sumptuous petals may invite But my thorns will surely prick
The garden gate may sometimes be unlocked
Peek into my garden
But it only means so much
Understand it’s never yours This garden, it blooms just for me Even when I’m on all fours
Look inside my garden See the water flow with ease Notice how it seeks permission Never begging, never saying “please” You will never be my garden Again, though you might try
I am my own sun, I am my own water Lean in for a kiss good bye - Rugile Pekinas XXIII
taping magazine clippings and
postcards on chipped paint. glossy, wrinkled; stiff, somber. Jessica Suljic XXIV
Self - Love It’s really easy to hate yourself. Like way easier than it should be. Maybe every time you’re in front of a mirror you get a rude reminder that your nose is probably too big for your face, or that your love handles are a little too much for someone to love. I know that’s what I see.
Well... Part of what I see. I mean, if we’re really gonna break it down, my whole wardrobe could use an upgrade, everyone can probably tell my socks don’t actually match the rest of the of my outfit, my eyebrows are way too bushy – maybe they need to be plucked, but wait then girls might think I’m into boys, I mean not that there’s anything wrong with that but girls won’t like that...
Right? Anyways, I should be leaner, drop a couple pounds, no wait I should be bigger instead, I’d definitely look better. Fuck my lips are dry, fuck, why don’t I even have any chapstick on me? Time to stop slouching, stand up straight, smile but don’t smile with teeth, I mean, mine are a little uneven and yellow. No one wants to see that. But damn, why is my hair so messy and curly, why can’t it be straight? Wait, now I cut my hair and its straight, why can’t it just be curly for once, wavy at the minimum, at least I have nice eyes – Oh, that’s right, I have nice eyes. At least I think so... And maybe my body is something to be proud of, it’s an entire body of work covered in all my little scars and souvenirs. Shit, I’ve still got that scar under my right eye from walking into a telephone pole when I was 6. Now that’s a funny memory, but maybe not as funny as that neon clothing phase that happened in high school. I guess I already did upgrade my wardrobe a bit. Damn, that sounds dangerously close to being happy with myself. Can’t let that happen. - Paul Ionescu XXV
Self-love Sometimes I walk through the woods by myself, but I’m not alone. I observe the frail leaves hanging on the trees, refusing to let go of who they are. I’m not alone anymore because you have shown me how easy it is to love myself. So I keep you with me on my walks, as the leaves crunch under my feet, I feel grateful because you have taught me how to let go.
- Sina Kazeroonizand
XXVI
Road Trip We had failed. With thousands of pounds in tow, my father and I had tried to move all of my family's belongings in the Summer of 2016, from my childhood home in Indianapolis, to Vancouver - over 2500 miles - and we had failed. Our brave Honda Pilot had been defeated by both the heat of the summer and the weight of our burden in the red mountain turf, just outside Sundance, Wyoming, a town of less than 1,300 people. After hours of haphazardly toiling away on the shoulder of I90, my father - half deranged, half genius - repaired our downed engine with little more than a basic set of hand tools, a plastic water bottle, and a rubber glove, and we continued at a snail's pace for the remaining 1000-or-so miles. The picture here, taken just outside of Seattle our final rest stop before crossing the border into Canada - is my favorite photograph of myself. I use it as a reminder of the beautiful lesson I learned from my father on the side of that great American highway: to always persevere through hardship, no matter how impossible the task may seem, because life is worth living. It's worth challenging oneself - even through the hardship, anxiety, and stress it induces because we come out so much stronger, and so much more alive, on the other side. - Max Challis
XXVII
XXVIII