This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to real-life persons and events is purely coincidental.
I am baffled.
Look at how this pandemic has singlehandedly swept all our aspirations and inspirations and expectations for this collegiate year.
My younger self has envisioned how it would be like entering a university’s hallowed halls, being overwhelmed by the avalanche of workloads.
Time flies in milliseconds, and now I’m here, stuck at my home, wondering when this nightmare will end.
I guess the light at the end of the tunnel will shine in 2022 or 2023 or 2024 – I don’t know.
The more pressing question: How will I build new friendships on a medium known for redefining the term ‘anonymous’ and ‘fake’?
But God is good.
I am blessed.
Throughout the course of the pandemic years, I have conversed, gossiped and, admittedly, blabbered with online friends, whose existence, while virtual, is rousing.
They are my saving grace in an unpredictable year.
How did I do it?
How was I able to find new pals?
Take this from a former American president, Jimmy Carter: “We must adjust to changing times and still hold to unchanging principles.”
I hate staring at my laptop – it exposes me to ultraviolet rays that will affect my eyesight in the future.
I hate my kin’s eavesdropping – sorry to them in advance but I want conversations to be as private as possible.
I hate the pandemic, of course, and if that were a person, I would have stabbed him in the neck – apologies to Lord Jesus Christ.
I am mesmerized.
Look at the anatomy of an online friend; it’s so identical to a real friend yet so different from a physical one.
The anatomy of an online friend goes something like this: The physicality is made of pixels and codes and internet lexicons that only programmers know.
The mind remains the same, of course – sometimes complex, sometimes doubting, sometimes incalculable.
The voice is that of a computer sound, hence it is sometimes intermittent.
The body changes, but who cares?
And the bottom part is invisible – the legs disappear and the feet are mysterious.
The online friend is honest, vulnerable to emotions, giddy on tittle-tattle and keen on his or her peer’s likes and dislikes and interests.
But let’s be frank here.
I am scared.
What if the online friend is masquerading?
What if the online friend is laughing up his or her ass – a result of one’s quickness to take the bait?
What if the online friend is your life’s Thanos – a destructive creature who, in a snap, crushes you?
I have a lot of questions.
But I am optimistic.
Let pessimism flow out of your body.
The online friend is a real friend; the online friend is a ka-barkada; the online friend is tantamount to your family.
I’m excited to meet them someday.
I know they too of me.
In sickness and in health, we’ll cherish every memory.
In richer or poor, we’ll weather the storm.
‘Til death do us part, we’ll hold our hands tight.
Artwork from Dropbox Blog.
The Edj View 