The Light Holds You Both

The afternoon sun is high, and the noise of the house feels like a wall you cannot climb. You are holding the roof up with your own two hands, terrified that if you ever speak the truth about wanting to leave, the whole structure will collapse on the people you love.

You carry the weight of their stability on your back, believing your silence is the only thing keeping them safe. But there is a light inside you that does not depend on your performance to stay alive.

It was there before you became the pillar, and it will be there if the walls ever come down. You are not the foundation of your family; the light is.

And that light cannot be broken by a confession, nor can it be lost in the rubble of a changed life. The panic says you must hold on tight to keep them from falling.

The truth says the light holds you both, even in the shaking.