The Light Sees Your Drowning

The call ends. The screen goes dark.

And you sit there, holding a phone that feels suddenly heavy, realizing the person on the other line heard your voice but never touched the drowning part of you. You smiled when they asked how you were.

You said 'fine' because it was easier than explaining the water rising in your lungs. Now the silence is loud, and the mask feels like it's glued to your skin.

But the light does not need your performance to find you. It sees the difference between the smile and the sinking.

It saw you hanging up. It saw the tears you wiped away before anyone could notice.

You are not hidden from the One who knows the weight of the water. The mask may fool the room, but it cannot fool the light that lives inside your chest.

It has been waiting for you to stop pretending long enough to feel its hand on your shoulder. You don't have to take the mask off all at once.

Just let it crack, just a little, and let the air in.