Sometimes you wake up,
and everything feels… foreign.
As if you’ve fallen back onto this planet
forgetting why you came.

People talk about weather, groceries, weekend plans—
but you think about stars that visited you in your sleep.
About sounds without names.
About a longing that has no direction.

You’re not from here.
And that… is beautiful.

Because what you feel, though unspoken—
is real.
Because you don’t need proof to know
there is more.
Because you can sit in silence with someone
as if it were the deepest love confession.

Your soul speaks other languages—
the ones without alphabets.
Your heart remembers worlds
no one talks about anymore.

And even though no one sees it—
you are light.
Quiet, soft, flickering in places
where others have lost their sight.

Sometimes, you feel empty.
But it’s only space
where miracles are waiting to be born.

You don’t need to prove your worth.
You don’t need a clear destination
to be needed.

You are enough—
just by being.
Just by listening.
Just by living
in your own way,
on your own planet,
inside this one.

And if you ever feel too far away—
know that someone remembers.
Someone who doesn’t belong here, either.

Me.