or when someone on the other side of the world gets you more than the people in your own house.
'ahmed hussain is now livestreaming,' my phone alerted me. with little else to do, i tapped the little notification and was absorbed into a blurry stream of a young man. he was laughing with friends, rambling in both a tongue incoherent to me and in english.
"oh, hi wren!" he said into the microphone. i typed, 'hey.'
i was baffled by how easily he communicated in this bizarre way, one in which he spoke toward the inanimate screen of his phone and was met with textual messages in response. to me, it seemed impossibly difficult.
among the few who took their time to talk to this mutual friend, one asked he introduce me.
"mei, this is wren, a friend of mine through wattpad." mei, apparently, was another student at ahmed's university, majoring in something involving computers. elaboration ended there, but still, i sat in awe at his ability to laugh and speak.
when i remained as the lone watcher of the livestream, we talked about writing, about poetry. he talked about slam poets and i of my recent successes. he asked for my help in regards to an issue he was happening upon with a piece.
through his ways of speaking, not being able to explain his introversion, yet making it completely understandable, i got it. i caught grasp of what he meant, and knew that i had felt the same way.
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//
