or when they don't even try to understand.
when i tried to tell the friends at my lunch table the next day about how i had felt in the face of the 'compliment,' i was met again with laughter.
my friend, whose fictional name is emma, laughed the hardest. i gave her only a puzzled look; after all, i thought that how i felt in the face of compliments made sense.
"i don't like to brag, is all," i muttered. "i don't like to feel like i'm above others."
she scoffed. "you 'don't like to feel like i'm above others,' and 'don't like to brag'? you were literally bragging yesterday!"
kamal agreed, they both snickered a bit more, teased a bit more before returning to their lunches.
i couldn't figure out why i couldn't explain it the right way. it would be prideful to call myself humble, boggling to say compliments make me uncomfortable, and hilarious if i tried to say it the right way. for the girl who has so many words, i seemed to have none to describe what i meant.
but why couldn't they comprehend it in the first place? is it so hard to believe that the number one person in the freshman class feels things beyond what they see?
YOU ARE READING
Smart Girl
Non-Fictionthoughts from the smart girl. //the journal of wren// //highest rank #2 in non fiction// //all names of real people interacted with here are altered from their original versions for privacy's sake//
