You Do Not Have to Hold Yourself Together

The afternoon sun is unforgiving. It exposes the dust on the shelves and the cracks in the wall.

And you are terrified that if you let your mask slip, if you let them see the tremor in your hands, they will walk away. You think your brokenness is a burden too heavy for anyone else to carry.

But look at the one walking beside you on this dusty road. He does not flinch at the wound.

He does not turn away from the limp. He sees the paralysis and he does not offer a lecture on how to walk; he offers his own shoulder.

The fear says: show nothing, or lose everyone. The truth is quieter, and it cuts through the noise: the ones who love you are not waiting for your performance.

They are waiting for your presence. You do not have to hold yourself together to be held.

The light does not love the mask. It loves the face beneath it, tear-stained and real.

Let them see. The ones who stay are the ones who were meant to see.