Why do we ask questions we already know the answers to?
Someone I love more than life itself asked me:
“Are you getting my messages?”
As if I haven’t been screaming my truth in every word, every silence, every breath—casting signals so bright they could split the night sky.
But still, I asked:
“Are you getting mine?”
As if I didn’t already know the answer.
Because the truth is, my message has fallen, once again, into silence. Into deaf ears. Into the void between hearts that used to beat in rhythm.
And to my dear child: I have not given up on you.
I release you into God’s hands.
May He show you where the real answers live.
Because sometimes, the messages we’re dying to hear don’t come from another human voice—but from the quiet place where your soul finally listens.