You Are Not Your Typos

The screen glows in the dimming room, and your eyes lock onto the words you just sent. You read them again, and suddenly the tone feels wrong—too cold, too frantic, too much.

You imagine the person on the other end pulling back, convinced you are unhinged. The silence that follows feels like a verdict.

But listen—the light that lives in you does not speak in mistakes. It saw you before you typed a single letter.

It knows the heart behind the fumble. Neither do they condemn you, because the light does not condemn you.

The words are already sent, and they cannot be un-sent, but the love beneath them remains untouched. You are not your typos.

You are not your anxiety. You are the light that typed them.