Diana Tkach

I met Dynamo in highschool. She laughed all the time, had crushes on everyone, wrote poetry about glasses lenses, and just generally seemed engaged with life and unwilling to let mundane things stay that way.

She told me I was scary and she told Kristie Smith I was gay even though I totally told her it was a secret.

Dynamo is physically incapable of whispering or laughing quietly which is fucking fantastic in a class setting. She’d also bring magazines to class and hand them out. It is entirely her fault that I know how to create the perfect smokey eye and zilch about physics; Super model diet secrets and nothing about trig. We almost would’ve paid attention in English be had to make fun of Tundo.

I don’t have a clue how either of us graduated, but I can’t picture making it through such an unfun place without her. We’re cotards forever.