ok. (or, the weight of a single text message) #WriteAPageADay #850

the last text message

(or, the existential crisis of a blinking notification)

it was not a love letter
not a call to arms
not a mystery unraveling in digital ink
it was not even important,
unless you count pixels whispering obligation

"ok."

just that.
ok.

like a shrug in the void.
like a door left ajar but never entered.
like a question that never came,
but you answered anyway.

i wanted more.
but also nothing.
i wanted fireworks,
but also silence.
i wanted a novel, a poem, a confession,
but all i got was
ok.

is that all we are now?
compressed emotions in shorthand?
where exclamation marks have weight
and periods are passive-aggressive assassins?
where meaning is implied,
never explicit,
never sprawled out in ink-stained hands,
never bled onto paper?

ok.

i stared at it.
stared into it.
stared through it.
stared past it.
let it echo, bounce off walls
till it turned into something else—

a sigh.
a phantom.
a goodbye disguised as neutrality.
or maybe just
what it was.

a response.
nothing more.
nothing less.

ok?

ok.

but was it?
because i held my phone for too long after,
letting the screen fade to black,
letting my own reflection stare back,
a ghost of expectation in my eyes.

ok.

was i supposed to respond?
was i supposed to let it sit?
was i supposed to read between invisible lines,
decode the missing sentiment,
fill in the gaps with all the words unsaid?

was i supposed to move on,
as if that syllable had not just
settled into my bones
like a cold front rolling in
unexpected and unwelcome?

ok.

it wasn’t the first time.
wasn’t the last.
i have received grander dismissals,
colder silences,
messages that never came at all.

but somehow,
this one felt louder
than silence.

i scroll up,
as if rereading will make it change,
as if context will offer salvation,
as if i have misinterpreted its weight.

but no.
there it is.
staring back at me.
ok.

my mind, traitorous,
fills in the spaces,
writes the replies i will never get—

"ok?"
"ok…"
"ok!"
"ok?"
"ok."

same letters.
different universes.

one is tired.
one is indifferent.
one is a time bomb,
one is a quiet farewell,
one is an invitation to respond,
one is a period at the end of something i didn’t know was ending.

i imagine alternative realities—
one where the text had been longer,
where explanation danced between the words,
where context wasn’t a shadowy ghost,
lurking between the letters.

i imagine one where "ok" meant—
"i don’t have the energy to say more, but i care."
or
"i read what you said and i understand."
or
"i am here but words feel heavy."

but there’s no tone in text.
no breath between syllables.
no hesitation before hitting send.

it is all received at face value,
stripped of its warmth,
naked in its meaninglessness.

ok.

i exhale.
laugh, maybe.
because it’s ridiculous, isn’t it?
that a single word can hold so much weight
and yet nothing at all?

i let my phone slip onto the table,
face down.
as if turning away will unwrite it,
as if ignoring it will erase the lingering questions.

but it’s still there.
lurking in the notification bar.
daring me to acknowledge its finality.

i stand up.
walk to the window.
stare at a world that does not care about the weight of a single text message.
cars move.
birds fly.
someone laughs three floors down.

and here i am.
stuck.
fixated on a word that does not fixate on me.

ok.

what a strange way to be left holding nothing.

what a strange way for someone to say—
"i am done with this conversation."
"i have nothing more to add."
"i acknowledge your words but do not want to engage."
"i am here but i do not care."
"i do care but i do not know how to say it."

what a strange way for my heart to interpret things
it was never meant to interpret.

because maybe it wasn’t that deep.
maybe it was just
ok.

maybe that’s all it was.
maybe i am the one giving it depth,
handing it gravity it does not deserve,
painting landscapes onto a single dot in the universe.

but isn’t that what we do?
make meaning out of the meaningless?
search for poetry in the mundane?
romanticize, overanalyze,
obsess over the small things
because the big things
are too vast to hold?

so yes.
maybe this isn’t about the text.
maybe this is about all the moments
i have felt unseen, unheard,
misunderstood by the universe,
by people who reply
with too little
or say nothing at all.

maybe this is about the echoes of past conversations,
words left hanging in the air,
the absence of closure wrapped in three measly letters.

or maybe,
just maybe,
it really was just an "ok."
nothing more.
nothing less.

and yet,
even as i sit back down,
even as i tell myself to let it go,
even as the world continues moving,
i know i will still check my phone,
just one more time,
just in case.

ok?

ok.

#Poetry #DigitalAge #TextMessages #Minimalism #UnspokenWords #ExistentialCrisis #ModernCommunication #Ok #LostInTranslation