The Stranger You Were Always Meant To Be

The afternoon light is unforgiving when you stand before the mirror and wash the costume away. You watch the persona dissolve into the sink, leaving a stranger staring back with tired eyes and a face you barely recognize.

It feels like a loss, this sudden nakedness without the armor you wore to get through the day. But the light does not need the paint to see you; it never did.

There was a man born blind, and the people around him argued about whose fault it was, but the light simply opened his eyes so he could finally see what was real. You are not the mask you built to survive the morning.

You are the one who sees now, even if the vision is terrifying. The stranger in the glass is the only real thing you have ever been.