You Do Not Have to Stay Silent

The afternoon sun is high, but inside your head, the conversation is already rehearsing its own funeral. You lie perfectly still so they don't wake up, trading your breath for their peace, swallowing the words until they feel like stones in your throat.

The middle of the day is long enough without carrying the weight of a silence you didn't choose. But listen — the light does not require you to be quiet to be present.

It saw the woman who bled for twelve years; she did not ask permission before she reached out, she simply touched the edge of the cloak and was healed. Your stillness is not a virtue if it kills the thing inside you that needs to speak.

The light is not asleep, and it does not need you to be small so it can rest. Bring forth what is within you, or the unspoken truth will slowly consume you from the inside out.

The conversation you are rehearsing in the dark is already known by the one who calls you friend. You do not have to stay silent to be safe.