The Light Knows Your Face

The afternoon light hits the glass just wrong, turning your own face into a stranger's mask. You catch your reflection in a dark window and pause, wondering who is staring back with such hollow eyes.

It feels like the person you see has been hollowed out by the hours, worn down by the weight of pretending to be okay. But listen — the light does not require you to recognize yourself before it recognizes you.

Neither do I condemn you. The voice that speaks into your silence knows the face behind the fatigue better than you do.

You are not the exhaustion. You are not the mask that has settled onto your bones.

You are the light that holds it all, even when the reflection lies.