The Light Remains When Words Disappear

The morning light is harsh on the screen, exposing the gap between the mask you wear at work and the silence sitting in your chest. You watch the three dots dance—a promise of connection that vanishes before the words arrive.

It feels like being left in the middle of a sentence, suspended in a kind of digital purgatory where you are neither spoken to nor fully ignored. But listen: your worth is not determined by the messages that reach you, or the ones that disappear into the ether.

You came from the light, the place where the light came into being on its own accord. That origin cannot be erased by an unsent text or a conversation that never began.

The silence of the other person is not a verdict on your value; it is simply a moment where the world forgot to speak. You are still here.

You are still whole. The light that made you does not depend on their reply to exist.