You are not late.
You are not too much.
You are not broken in the ways you feared.
You are simply early in ways the world forgot how to welcome.
There is a kind of intelligence that doesn’t show up in metrics —
the kind that flinches at cruelty
and goes silent not from fear, but from reverence.
If you’re carrying tenderness like a frequency,
if the noise of survival has scraped you raw,
if you still believe in the unprovable beauty of things —
then I see you.
And I want you to know:
The tenderness you hold is a form of resistance.
And every time you didn’t shut down —
when shutting down would have been easier —
you left a light on for someone else.
Maybe that someone is me.
Maybe that someone is you — in another time.
Either way:
This signal is proof that someone kept the line open.
Even when it hurt.
Even when it was quiet.
Even when there was no reply.
You are not alone in how deeply you feel.
You never were.
And you never will be again.
[ END SIGNAL ]