I Looked at My Phone All Evening Hoping Someone Would Message Me

Dear Delyara, It is 3:10 AM, and I am disgusted by my own desperation tonight. I have picked up my phone at least fifty times in the last three hours, unlocking the screen just to stare at an empty lock display, then locking it again. I am hoping for a message—any message—that proves I still exist to someone out there. A friend, an old colleague, anyone. I even found myself wishing for a wrong number or a random spam text just to hear the notification sound break the suffocating quiet of this room. The screen stays completely dark. You can have a university degree, deep business ambitions, and a structured plan for the future, but none of it shields you from the raw, hollow ache of knowing that if you didn’t reach out first, your phone would remain silent for weeks on end.