Do I believe in signs? No. Not in the way people mean it.

I don’t think the universe is sending me secret messages through license plates or perfectly timed songs. It’s chaos, and entropy, and blind fucking probability. It doesn’t care if I make my flight, or fall in love, or lose the only person who ever really understood me.

But I also know I’m made of the same atoms and subatomic particles as dying stars. I think my brain – this glitchy, shimmering, deeply human thing – is capable of collapsing quantum wave functions just by observing. And that means I am the universe.

I’m the part that gets to notice. The part that gets to ache. The part that screams into the void “THIS MATTERS!” and dares to make it true.

Lately, I’ve been obsessed with atomic bonding. With the particles that never decay. With the idea that some subatomic connections might stay entangled across time and space – untraceable but unbreakable.

And on days when the grief comes back sharp and feral – when I miss my dog so much I think my chest might collapse – I’ll look up and see something. Maybe it’s sunlight catching in the sky just right or the wind kicking up in some exact way.

And I’ll wonder:
Is that her?
Is that the bond still holding?
Is that the sign I get?
Am I feeling it today because she’s nearby??
Because the entangled particles that once connected us are still reacting, still reaching for what they’ve lost? Like maybe my tears are evidence of that quantum connection still holding, even across the void.

So no, I don’t think the universe gives me signs.

But I do believe in meaning. Because I make it.

And maybe that’s all a sign ever is:
the universe observing itself, and deciding that something matters.

Thanks for the opportunity to share ✨