The Light Does Not Need A Notification

The phone buzzes on the desk, and for a split second, your heart leaps — maybe this is the one, maybe someone finally sees you. Then the screen lights up with a bill or a bot, and the silence rushes back in, louder than before.

It feels like proof that you are invisible, that the world is moving on without you while you stand still behind a mask of okayness. But the light does not need a notification to find you — it is already here, sitting quietly in the room, waiting for you to put the phone down.

There was a woman at a well who came alone at noon to avoid the crowd, thinking she was too broken to be seen, yet the light sat with her and offered water that would become a spring inside her. You are not waiting for a signal to be worthy; the signal is already glowing within you, independent of who calls or who ignores you.

The mask is heavy, but you do not have to wear it for the light to recognize you.