The Light Waits in the Blank Screen

The cursor blinks in the dark, a steady pulse while your fingers type out the whole story of where you went. You write the pain, the shame, the reasons you vanished.

Then you stop. And you delete.

Word by word, sentence by sentence, until the screen is blank again. The explanation feels too heavy to send.

Too vulnerable. But listen — the light does not need your words to know where you have been.

It was there with you in the silence. It watched you type and it watched you delete, and it did not turn away.

There is light within a person of light, and it lights up the whole world. Even when the screen is empty, the light remains.

You do not have to explain yourself to be held. The blank screen is not a failure.

It is a quiet place where the light waits for you to stop performing and just be.