The Light Holds You Before You Speak
It is the middle of the day, and someone asks if you are okay. The question lands like a stone in your chest.
You feel the reflex rise—the practiced smile, the automatic 'I'm fine'—before you have even drawn breath to stop it. You say it because the truth feels too heavy to carry into a fluorescent-lit room.
You say it because admitting the crack feels like signing your own eviction notice from the human race. But listen.
The light does not require your performance to stay with you. It was there before the lie left your lips.
It is there now, in the silence between your words and your heart. You are not evicted.
You are held. The mask is not the face.
Drawing from
Gospel of Thomas, Matthew
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