The Signal Already Burning in Your Chest

The afternoon hums with a silence that feels like a held breath. You reach for your pocket, certain the phone has vibrated, certain someone is trying to reach you through the static.

But the screen stays dark. Days have passed without a name lighting up, and the phantom sensation becomes a kind of hunger—a desperate reach for proof that you are still connected to the world.

You are waiting for a signal from the outside to tell you that you matter, that you are seen. But the light does not wait for a notification to arrive.

It speaks from within, saying: 'We came from the light, the place where the light came into being on its own accord.' Your origin is not a message from someone else. It is the fire that was cast into you before the world ever knew your name.

Stop checking the screen for a sign that you are alive. The signal is already burning in your chest, independent of who calls and who stays silent.