Known in the Quiet Room of Lack

The afternoon stretches out, long and quiet, while you sit alone rehearsing the lie you'll tell tonight. You craft the excuse about being too busy, masking the truth that you simply cannot afford the price of admission.

The shame of it sits heavy in your chest, a wall you build to keep people from seeing the empty pockets you try so hard to hide. But what you look forward to has already come, and you do not recognize it.

The light is not waiting for you to have enough money to be worthy of connection. It is already here, in this quiet room, in this moment of lack.

The lie says you are too poor to be seen. The truth says you are already known, and you are already held.