The Light Waits in the Dim Glow

The house is quiet now, but your hands are still moving. You type their name into the search bar just to see if the picture has changed, then you close the tab before the page loads.

You are holding your breath in the space between the click and the load, terrified of what you might see, yet unable to stop looking. This is the exhaustion of the exhale — the moment the performance stops and the ache rushes in to fill the silence.

But listen — the light does not demand that you stop checking. It simply sits beside you in the dim glow of the screen, waiting for you to put the weight down.

You do not have to know the answer tonight. You do not have to see the face to be held.

The love that lives inside you is not dependent on a profile picture or a status update or a view count. It was there before you opened the browser, and it remains when you close it.

You are not defined by who sees you online, but by the light that sees you right here, in the dark, with the cursor blinking.