collections of short narratives, rewritten episodes, & jovial cynicism





I wasn’t calm.

In general, I was obsessively impatient on my best days; passively indifferent on my worst.

But I prided myself on the coolest exterior ice can ever come across.

And then, there came my realization (I’m a firm believer that this happens for everyone–the moment when your crazed ass and sense finally become acquainted, and things just start finding their way, fitting in their spaces).

Mine wasn’t quick, but a slow simmer, and now a comfortable burn.

It didn’t come when I wanted it, but does it ever? For anyone?

I wonder if S/He’s laughing, at how long it took me; how long it takes each one of us.

I hope the joke never gets old.

Tatyana Mann