The Light That Loves The Mask

The cursor blinks, waiting for words your heart cannot find. You type the affection, you send the care, but inside you feel like a stranger wearing your own skin.

The mask is heavy this morning, and the fear that they will see the hollow space behind your eyes is paralyzing. But there is a light that sees through the performance without demanding you stop acting.

It knows the exhaustion of holding the pose. It knows the terror of being found out.

And it does not ask you to drop the mask before it comes close. It sits with you in the pretense.

It loves the one hiding behind the smile. You are not your performance.

The light is already there, in the silence between the keystrokes, waiting for you to stop pretending long enough to feel it.