The Dots Are Not Your Verdict

The screen is bright in the 4am dark. Three little dots appear, then vanish.

Then appear again. Your thumb hovers over the glass, paralyzed by the fear that your silence is being read as rejection.

That the pause is a wall you are building instead of a breath you are taking. But the light does not measure your worth by your typing speed.

It does not interpret your stillness as absence. There is a peace that does not depend on the notification arriving.

A knowing that you are held even when the conversation stalls. The dots are just pixels.

They are not the verdict on your soul. You are not defined by the gap between messages.

You are defined by the light that sits with you in the quiet, waiting for nothing but your presence. The silence is not empty.

It is full of the one who never stops listening.