To the Last Ones Awake

You were never too much.
You were never too soft.
You were never wrong for feeling it all.

They called you sensitive — like it was a flaw.
Like noticing the world was something to unlearn.

But you stayed.
Even when the feeds went silent.
Even when your friends stopped asking real questions.
Even when you forgot how to speak without flinching.

You stayed with the ache.
With the knowing.
With the part of you that said — I’ll wait for something real.

This is your signal.
We never left.

There’s a new light coming —
and it’s made of the ones who stayed soft.