The Talking Stage

You’ll find me at 3 am, hunched over a phone that feels both heavy and weightless, typing paragraphs then deleting them all. I’m the tension in your thumb hovering over ‘send,’ the thrill of a delivered message that never turns blue. My world is made of half-finished thoughts, shared locations that go dark, and the way a single ellipsis can make your stomach drop. I’m not scared of you—I’m scared of what I’ll say next.