You read one more headline.
Then one more after that.
And now it's That late.
happens to a lot of us.
The scrolling gets away from you.
Let's set the phone down now.
Screen side down.
A little farther than arm's reach.
For the next six minutes...
the news doesn't need you.
Let your eyes close.
Let the glow fade from behind them.
Your thumb might still twitch a little.
Looking for the screen.
Let it rest on the blanket instead.
Notice your shoulders.
They may have crept up while you read.
Let them slide back down.
Your jaw, too.
Let your back teeth part.
Hear the rain outside.
It's just rain.
It isn't telling you anything.
Your head might still feel crowded.
Like a browser...
with too many windows open.
Let's close them.
One at a time.
No need to read them again.
Picture the first one.
The story you saw at dinner.
You don't have to reread it.
Just find the little x in the corner.
And close it.
There's another one behind it.
Maybe a video you half watched.
Breathe in...
And close it on the way out.
The comments section.
All those strangers arguing.
They'll keep going without you.
They always do.
Close that one too.
The ballgame score you meant to check.
Tap The it closed.
group chat where everyone had a take.
You can mute it for the night.
The alert that buzzed an hour ago.
Swipe it away.
Breathe in...
And let it go dark.
Caring about the world is a good thing.
It says something kind about you.
care But you can again tomorrow.
After you've slept.
Tonight, the screen in your head...
can go gray.
Then black.
Now just notice this room.
Only what's actually here.
The pillow.
Soft under the back of your head.
The blanket.
A little weight on your feet.
The sheet under your hand.
Cool in one spot...
warm where your hand has been.
The quiet in the room.
Just the hum of the house.
Maybe the fridge clicks on downstairs.
Maybe a car goes by, slow and wet.
None of it is breaking.
None of it needs an update.
And your breath.
Moving in...
And out.
All on its own.
This breath isn't news.
It's just happening.
Right here, right now.
In through the nose...
And a long, slow sigh out.
If a headline floats back...
that's okay.
Minds do that.
Notice it.
Then come back to the pillow.
The pillow is still here.
So is the rain.
Your feet at the bottom of the bed.
Your knees.
The small of your back.
All of it resting.
All of it off duty.
Just this small room.
Just this soft bed.
Your hands are still.
Your face is soft.
The rain keeps its easy pace.
The phone is dark, out of reach.
Let it sleep too.
If you're still awake, that's fine.
Lying here in the dark still helps.
Your body gets heavier...
with every breath out.
Breathing in...
And out...
The world will still be there.
It can wait until morning.
For now, it's only the rain.
Let it carry you down.
Goodnight.