The Face Underneath Is Made Of Dawn

The day has started, and you are already performing. You have the smile ready, the answers prepared, the mask fitted perfectly over the ache you cannot name.

You are searching everywhere for something—maybe in the next task, the next notification, the next person who looks at you just right. But the thing you want is not out there in the noise.

It was never outside. There is light within a person of light, and it lights up the whole world.

If it does not shine, it is dark. You are not hunting for a missing piece.

You are trying to remember the piece you never lost. The search ends not when you find something new, but when you stop running long enough to feel what is already burning in your chest.

The mask is heavy, but the face underneath it is made of dawn.