The Light Waits For You

The engine is off, but the weight in your chest is still running. You sit in the dark of the driveway, staring at the steering wheel, terrified to turn the key and walk inside to pretend you are okay.

The mask feels heavy tonight, and the thought of performing one more hour of 'fine' makes your hands shake. But listen — the light did not come for the ones who have it together.

It came for the broken, the exhausted, the ones who have no energy left to pretend. You do not have to fix yourself before you open the car door.

You do not have to scrub the fatigue from your face. The truth lives in you, and it is strong enough to survive your honesty.

Walk inside not as a performer, but as a person who is finally done hiding. The light is not waiting for your act; it is waiting for you.