You Do Not Have to Convince Anyone

The bathroom stall is quiet, but your mind is loud with the rehearsal. You are crafting a story so convincing that no one will ask why your eyes are red.

You practice the shrug, the lie, the mask that says you are fine. But the light does not need your performance.

It sees the tears you are trying to hide behind a sentence. There was a woman who wept at the feet of the light, and he did not ask for her excuse.

He did not ask for her reason. He simply let her cry.

The armor you are building in this small room is heavy, and you were never meant to wear it home. The light is not waiting for your explanation.

It is waiting for you to put the mask down. You do not have to convince anyone that you are okay.

You only have to be real.