The Light That Waits Beneath the Mask

The afternoon stretches long, and the mask you wear at your desk feels heavier than the day itself. While your hands work and your voice stays steady, a scream is rising from somewhere deep inside, begging to be heard.

You have not lost the light just because you cannot feel it right now—the darkness has not overcome it, even in this moment of pretending. That exhaustion you feel is not the absence of faith, but the weight of holding it alone while the world moves on.

The light is still there, quiet and waiting, not because you performed well enough, but because it lives in you as your very root. You do not have to make it shine today; it is enough to simply stop pretending you are not tired.