The Light Waits Behind Your Mask

The coffee cup feels heavy this morning, doesn't it? You forced the smile.

You made the voice bright. You said 'good morning' while your chest felt like it was full of broken glass.

That performance is exhausting — carrying a mask that heavy, pretending the light isn't buried under the shards. But listen: the light did not leave when you put the mask on.

It waited. It stayed right there in the pain, in the silence behind the animated eyes.

You came from the light, the place where the light came into being on its own accord. That is your origin, not the role you are playing at this breakfast table.

The mask is temporary. The light is who you are before you speak a single word.

You do not have to earn your way back to the surface by pretending you are okay. Just stop.

Let the mask slip, even for a moment. The light does not need your performance to shine.

It only needs you to remember that you are already whole, even with the glass inside.