Buffering: Slow to Speak, Built to Think

by Micaiah, professional texter and emailer, part-time talker, full-time brain processor

Here’s something about me you might not know (unless you’re my parents or you’ve attempted a spontaneous conversation with me in public):

I prefer texting over talking.

Not because I hate talking. I can talk. In fact, I can talk a lot if the subject is interesting. Ask me about superheroes, Thomas the Tank Engine lore, DC vs. Marvel strategy, doing things that are good for your life, or why I believe bullying is a silent crisis, and I will deliver a full analysis. Possibly with historical context.

But if you walk up to me and say, “Hey, how’s your day?” without warning, my brain hits pause, opens approximately 36 browser tabs, and begins buffering like it’s running on dial-up internet from 2004, which, for the record, is one year after I was born. So I did not personally experience dial-up, but I understand the concept.

Texting, to me, is like brain yoga. When I text, I get space. I can read my words before they escape into the world. I can ask myself, “Is this what I mean?” or “Does this sound strange?” or “Am I achieving weird-cool or just weird?” (Weird-cool is the goal. It’s a narrow target.)

Sometimes my brain simply needs five, ten, maybe fifteen seconds, occasionally longer depending on what I'm doing to properly process a question. In texting, no one sees the loading screen. In real life, people can feel like human hourglasses, silently measuring how long I’m taking. That used to make me nervous. Now I’m learning that it’s okay if someone waits a moment. Thinking is not a malfunction. It’s just my operating system.

In person, people expect immediate responses. Meanwhile, my brain prefers to run diagnostics, generate multiple response drafts, evaluate tone, analyze consequences, choose an answer, reconsider it, and then finally speak. That’s not broken. That’s thorough.

My mom has helped me understand this better. She’s basically my life tutorial guide, except there is no skip button and no “mute hints” option. My dad teaches me too, just differently, a way that I do love though, to be honest. My mom's way taught me that if I need time, I can simply say, “Thank you for your patience,” or “I just need a moment to think about that.” Yep, you guessed it, she wants me to talk more and sometimes it just gets on my real nerves, but I get it. Silence is golden sometimes!

At first, what she told me to do felt terrifying. Explaining why I wasn’t speaking yet required speaking. It felt like a communication paradox, and I prefer my paradoxes in science fiction, not in grocery stores, Men's Wearhouse, or IKEA.

But after practicing it, I’ve learned something important: most people are actually fine with it. Some even appreciate it. No one has dramatically collapsed because I paused. Well, there was that one man at Culver’s, but we’re not counting that as typical data.

My mom doesn’t know everything. I’m sure she’d agree. (She should agree, otherwise we’ll have another burrito budget debate.) But she does understand people, and I’m starting to realize that listening to someone who knows more than you is not weakness. It’s strategy.

I’ve gotten better. I initiate conversations sometimes now. That’s growth. I still don’t love being surprised with questions, but I’m learning that pausing is allowed. Processing is allowed. And most people are not judging me as harshly as I judge myself. I think I might get that printed on something one day soon. Being a business owner is not on my real-life list of things to be involved in, but my mom has been talking to me about being an entrepreneur and tax stuff. It's not gibberish, but it gets on my nerves when I just want to make suits for myself and art without selling it to anybody. But she says that God gave me gifts that will make money for me if I ever get in a pinch in life, so that makes sense.

Texting will probably always be my favorite format. I can use GIFs. I can edit. I can send something, rethink it, and adjust without causing a full social ripple effect. In spoken conversation, once words leave your mouth, they don’t come back. The only solution is, “I’m sorry, that’s not what I meant.” And sometimes you’re not wrong, you just needed more time.

Texting gives me that time.

But I’m also learning to speak more, to explain myself when needed, and to trust that taking a pause doesn’t make me strange. It makes me intentional.

If you ever notice me pause before responding, just know I’m not frozen, I’m thinking. I’m choosing my words carefully. I care about saying things accurately.

And if you want to guarantee a long conversation with me, bring up superhero suit design, narrative symbolism, or jazz improvisation. Jazz and funk music and sometimes classical music or a mix, especially makes sense to me. It’s structured freedom or organized creativity, depending on how you look at it. Thinking out loud with instruments is how I like to see it.

That’s kind of how my brain works too.

I’ll end this here. I’m still learning, still adapting, and still improving my communication skills like it’s a long-term upgrade.

And honestly, I’m proud of that.

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Signed, Micaiah

Slow-to-speak thinker. Intentional communicator. Neurodivergent processor in active development. Fluent in typing, leveling up in talking.