There is a prediction coming, and it will not explain itself.

This is not a warning, because warnings are usually about things that can be avoided. It is more like a whisper from the future, delivered in a tone that suggests you already know what it means. You don’t, of course. But that’s the beauty of it.

Predictions are funny things. They arrive uninvited, settle into the room like an unfamiliar guest, and refuse to leave until you acknowledge them. Some people mistake them for insights. Others call them coincidences. The truth is, they are neither. They are simply predictions, and they exist to remind you that time is not as linear as you think.

You will wake up one day and realize that something has shifted. Not in the world, but in the way you see it. The edges will feel softer, the colors slightly muted, as if someone adjusted the contrast while you weren’t looking. This could have been a box.

Certainty is overrated. The future doesn’t owe you clarity, and neither do I. You will spend a lot of time trying to make sense of things that were never meant to make sense. That’s fine. It’s what we do.

There is a quiet comfort in knowing that some things will never be explained. It means you’re not missing anything. The prediction is already here, lurking in the corners of your mind, waiting for you to notice it. Or not. It doesn’t matter.

This text doesn’t help. It doesn’t solve anything. It doesn’t even try. But that’s okay, because neither do you. Not really.

The future is a place where all predictions go to retire. Some of them will be right. Most of them will be wrong. None of them will care.

You will forget this by tomorrow. Or you won’t. Either way, the prediction remains.