The Light Shines Through the Collapse

The afternoon sun hits the window just right, and for a split second, the mask slips. You stop moving.

You stop smiling. And suddenly, you feel less like a person and more like a hollow costume collapsing into a pile of fabric on the floor.

It is a terrifying silence when the performance ends. But listen — the collapse is not the end of you.

It is the end of the act. There is a light within a person of light, and it lights up the whole world.

That light was there before you put the costume on, and it remains when the fabric hits the ground. You do not have to sew yourself back together to be whole.

The light does not need the costume to shine. It shines through the pile.

The collapse is not your destruction; it is the moment the real you finally gets some air.