HeyJarednevin’s rambles
rambles from a stupid emotional obsessive lil me | fiction mfa candidate at columbia university school of the arts
- Indexed issues, last 90 days
- 11
- Latest publication
- Sep 25, 2026
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- Earliest in this view
- Jul 6, 2026
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doing everything I said I would (opens the original)
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So, I am trying hard to wake up in the morning because if I sleep in too much I have the bad dreams. And I am trying to eat two eggs at breakfast even though I am starting to get the egg ick because my doctor said to eat more protein. And I’m thinking about this time last year, when I was crying on the train rides to and from school, nervous system dysregulated, hair short, manic submitting my writing into lit mags I’d never heard of.And I’m thinking about the gap in my memory that was my fall t
the one where i get the national guard called on me in abu dhabi (opens the original)
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august 22nd, 2026i start off the flight with my energy levels high and a nice blowout. the flight food is actually quite good, though i avoid the chickpeas in the cup and the bread that’s as hard as a rock. i watch the harry potter movies but not in order.the prisoner of azkaban is the best one. argue with the wall. but my favorite book is the chamber of secrets. or the deathly hallows. those are the ones i read the most, staying up until 4 in the morning, hoping my parents wouldn’t catch me. i
are we posting too much? (opens the original)
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I sit in an overly hyped up cafe in Gulshan, 14 stories high, waiting twenty minutes for dumplings that, when they arrive, look quite sad. The coffee isn’t all bad, it is my third cup of the day, and my parents marvel at how far up we are, and how far Bangladesh has come. But this cafe just isn’t all that. Like, it’s fine. Just fine. I scroll through their Instagram, looking through a heavily curated feed that appeals to a mass audience—who are also there, creating content. Some are indoors. Som
nature keeps the score (opens the original)
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it’s like the contents of my brain have been put up on a dry erase board, and someone’s wiped their hand over it. is it me? i look to my hands, washing them over and over as one more dish appears in my sink, making dishes i have never made before, tasting to see how much salt the daal needs and i am appalled at how much it really needs, how much salt do i eat, unknowingly, in a day? it might sound like a stupid question. but i feel as though my mind has opened a door, and there is space for newe
what leaving bangladesh feels like (opens the original)
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The plane lifts off from Hazrat Shahjalal International Airport.As I soar towards the sky, my heart rips away from me. I try, through tears, to look out of the window, to catch any part of what had become of me, disappear into the darkness. <img alt="
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