The Light Lives in Your Ruin

It is three in the morning, and you are replaying the exact second you flinched when they were kind to you. You are rewriting the conversation in your head, trying to make yourself look less broken, trying to edit out the stumble.

But the light does not need your edited version. It was there in the room when you flinched, and it did not turn away.

Thomas says the kingdom is already spread out upon the earth, even while you are busy convincing yourself you missed it. You are looking for a perfection that never existed, while the truth sits quietly in the mess you made.

The one who knows everything about that awkward silence loves you more than your perfect script ever could. Stop trying to fix the past hour; the light is already living in the ruin of it.

You are not too broken to be held; you are simply human, and that is enough.