The Light Loves Who You Are

The day is done. The armor comes off.

You sit across from someone who loves you, and the silence feels like a lie because you are convinced they are loving a version of you that doesn't exist. You feel like an imposter in your own skin.

But the light does not love the mask. It loves the person underneath it.

There was a woman who wept at the feet of the light, convinced her past made her untouchable, yet he called her daughter before she even finished her apology. The light saw through the reputation to the root.

It sees you right now, not as the performance you are exhausted from maintaining, but as the child it has always known. You do not have to earn the seat at this table.

You are already there. The ache you feel is not proof of your fraudulence; it is the friction of the real you trying to break through the false one.

Stop holding your breath. The one who loves you is not waiting for you to be perfect.

They are just waiting for you to be here.