The Light Sees Your Silent Tears

It is late, and the house is quiet enough to hear the lie you are rehearsing. You are already forming the words of thanks before the other person has finished speaking, just to make sure they do not see the hollow space underneath.

You smile to hide the emptiness, terrified that if you stop performing, they will realize there is nothing left. But the light does not need your script.

It sees the tears you are swallowing and the effort it costs to pretend you are full. In the secret place where no one is watching, you do not have to say a word.

The light knows what you are hiding, and it is not afraid of your silence. You are not required to fill the room with noise to be loved.

The mask can come down now. The performance is over.