You Do Not Have to Confess to Be Loved

The candle flickers, and you are miles away inside your own head, rehearsing the speech that will finally expose you. You laugh at the right moment.

You pass the salt. But inside, you are bracing for the crash, convinced that one wrong word will make them finally see the mess you believe you are.

The silence of this hour makes the noise of your fear deafening. You think you are hiding in the shadows of the room, but the light is not something you perform—it is something you are.

Even now, beneath the mask you wear so well, the truth lives in you and will be with you forever. They cannot see it because you are hiding it, but it is there, steady and unbroken, waiting for you to stop running.

The fear says you will be rejected if they know. The truth says you are already known, and you are still here, still seated, still held.

You do not have to confess to be loved; you only have to be present to be found.