The Light Beneath the Glass

The afternoon light hits the glass just right, turning the window into a mirror where your reflection stares back, strange and unfamiliar. You spent the last few hours smiling at coworkers, nodding at the right times, performing the version of you that everyone expects to see.

But now, in the quiet hum of the office or the car, the mask has slipped, and you do not recognize the eyes looking back at you. It feels like a betrayal — that you can be so composed on the outside while crumbling within.

Yet the light does not scold you for the performance. It sees the exhaustion behind the smile and calls it human.

There is a child of true Humanity existing within you, deeper than the face you show the world. Follow that one instead.

The mask was necessary for the day, but it is not who you are. You are the light beneath the glass, waiting for the sun to set so you can finally stop pretending.