You Are Known, Not A Burden

The afternoon stretches out, a long, flat middle where the silence after your last honest word feels like a verdict. You are convinced that because you spoke your pain, you became a burden too heavy to carry again.

So you stay still. You wait for permission that never comes.

But the light does not measure your worth by how little space you take up. It sees the one who is weary and burdened by their own hesitation, and it does not turn away.

It calls you by name, not to scold you for the weight you carry, but to share it. You are not a problem to be solved or a debt to be repaid.

You are a friend who is known. The door is not locked from the inside; you are simply afraid to turn the handle.

Reach out. The hand that meets yours is not pulling away.