Loved Behind the Mask You Wear

The afternoon sun hits the glass, and suddenly the room feels too small, too loud, too full of eyes watching a performance you didn't mean to give. Someone praises your kindness, but the compliment lands like a stone in your stomach because they are thanking the wall, not the person shivering behind it.

You smile, you nod, you play the part of the one who has it together, while inside you are holding your breath, waiting for the mask to slip. The light sees the actor and the audience, but it loves the one hiding in the wings far more than the role you are playing.

It does not need your performance to know where you are. It is already sitting with you in the quiet panic behind the smile.

The wall you built to keep them out has become the very thing keeping you in.