The lights are off.
But the scene is still playing.
What you said.
What they said back.
The look on their face.
You've watched it maybe ten times now.
Each time, you notice something new.
A pause that felt too long.
A joke that didn't land.
That's what an anxious mind does at night.
It thinks one more pass will fix it.
It won't.
But that's okay.
We'll let it rest instead.
For six minutes...
you don't have to figure anything out.
Ease your head onto the pillow.
Let your arms lie at your sides.
Listen to the rain out there.
Soft and uneven.
A car passes somewhere outside.
Then the street goes still.
Now notice where the replay lives.
Maybe it's behind your eyes.
Or a tightness in Maybe your throat.
your stomach is a little clenched.
Like you're still in the room with them.
You're not in that room.
You're here.
In your own bed.
Let's be honest about it.
The conversation happened.
Maybe it went fine...
and your mind just won't believe it.
Or maybe it really was awkward.
Maybe you'd say it differently now.
Either way...
it's over for today.
They're probably asleep already.
Not thinking about it at all.
You can't text them at midnight.
You can't rewind the afternoon.
If something needs saying...
you can say it tomorrow.
Rested.
In daylight.
It will feel smaller by then.
Things usually do.
Tonight, it's already done.
Let that be true, just for now.
Breathe in, slowly...
And let your breath out long.
Let your shoulders loosen.
Now picture the conversation...
on a small screen.
Like an old TV across a dark room.
Far enough away that it's tiny.
can You see them talking.
You can see yourself.
You look a little tense.
Leaning forward, trying hard.
You can feel some kindness for that person.
You don't have to watch closely.
Just know it's there.
Now find the Turn volume.
it down one notch.
The voices get softer.
The rain gets louder.
Down another The notch.
words blur You together.
can't make them out.
And down again.
Now it's Just silent.
faces moving.
Now turn the brightness down.
The colors go gray.
Dimmer still.
Just shapes now.
Hard to tell who's who.
Breathe in...
And as you breathe out...
let the screen go dark.
Black and quiet.
Done for tonight.
If it flickers back on...
that's normal.
Just turn the volume down again.
No need to get upset with it.
Rest in the dark for a while.
Nothing's playing now.
Your throat is soft.
Your stomach can unclench.
Your jaw lets go of the words.
The ones you didn't say.
And the ones you did.
The rain keeps tapping on the glass.
Each drop lands and is gone.
Like conversation.
the Already passed.
Breathing in...
And out...
Your hands are heavy.
Your face is loose.
You were kind enough today.
Whatever it looked like.
And so were they, probably.
Most people are just trying.
The screen stays dark.
No rerun tonight.
Only the rain on the glass.
Sleep now.
Goodnight.