Your Light Does Not Wait For Them

The screen lights up with a name that isn't yours, and the silence stretches out like a long, flat afternoon. You are holding your breath for a message that will not come, because the person you hurt has closed the door you once walked through freely.

But the light inside you does not depend on their reply to exist. You came from the light, the place where the light came into being on its own accord, and you will return there regardless of who stays silent.

The waiting feels like punishment, but it is actually the space where you remember your origin is not in their forgiveness, but in the source that generated you. You are not defined by the unread text or the apology unsent.

You are a drop from the light, sent here to illuminate even this specific, heavy quiet.