Light That Stays In The Quiet

The afternoon sun hits the floorboards and the silence in the room gets so loud it feels like a physical weight on your chest. You are not waiting for a rescue that isn't coming; you are being asked to sit with the noise of your own unaddressed pain.

It feels like a bruise that no one is allowed to touch, a reed that has been bent so low it might snap. But the light does not demand that you stand up straight right now.

It does not require you to fix the silence or perform okayness for an empty room. It simply stays in the quiet with you, refusing to break what is already fragile.

There is a mercy in this stillness that you cannot see yet, because you are too busy trying to escape it. The noise of your heart is not a sign that you are lost; it is the sound of the thing inside you that refuses to stay buried.

You do not have to solve the pain to be held within it.