Original Advice

DONT: Re-read texts hunting for hidden meanings.

End The Text Autopsy

Stop performing autopsies on bubbles of text. Re-reading is not intuition; it's a ritual of control. You are searching for rejection before it arrives, rehearsing pain to feel prepared. Every scroll feeds the stomach ache you call certainty. The message said what it said. Your body keeps refreshing the wound. Put the phone down. Let silence be silence, not code.

Ambiguity isn't an omen. It's weather. Words on a screen are dead pixels, not devotion, not betrayal. Meaning lives in follow-through, tone, timing, and how they show up when it matters. Your safety won't come from magnifying punctuation. It comes from asking once, listening, and deciding. Spare your nervous system the scavenger hunt. Choose clarity over fantasy. Save tenderness for reality.

Cosmic Context

You are Moon-ruled: a tidal archive of every glance, every comma. Guard your shell, but stop letting old waves rewrite fresh shorelines.

Action

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Read it once, reply, then mute the thread.

You are allowed to ask directly and move on.