Loved So You Can Rest

The afternoon stretches out, long and gray, and you are carrying a weight you dare not name. You move through the hours performing strength, terrified that if your partner saw how tired you really are, they would walk away.

But the light does not love the mask you wear; it loves the face beneath it. There is light within a person of light, and it lights up the whole world—even the parts you try to hide in the dark.

You came from the light, sent here not to perform but to be. If they knew the depth of your exhaustion, they would not leave; they would finally see the real you, the one the light has never stopped holding.

The terror says you must be strong to be loved. The truth says you are loved so you can finally put the strength down.