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.
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 the lessons that they have taught me, the beautiful experiences we have shared, or even in powerful excerpts of conversations we have spoken. I have even found comfort in the most gut wrenching of moments by using my experiences as writing prompts. With this magazine, I hope to provide a platform for writers and artists to share their creativity. At their most jovial, angry, raw or euphoric - we want it all.
Welcome to BrainScramble.
Alyssa Zhang
“Maomao, don’t be such a Màoshīguǐ.” My mother said. Màoshīguǐ is Mandarin for “Daredevil”, a reckless person who […]
Looking back at when I was at the age of 13 years old, I was the type of […]
i have always been the second choice. my daddy would choose cigarettes and anger over his little girl […]
For as long as there have been celebrities, people have formed intense attachments to them and their lives.
Yellow was my favourite colour. I splashed my bedroom walls with it, despite my parents’ best protests. I […]
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 them for merely existing. I pity us all for existing – for never having chosen to be born.