The Sun Rose Without Your Permission

The engine is still warm, but you have turned it off. You sit in the silence of the driveway, rehearsing a voice that does not feel like yours.

You are practicing the tone of 'okay' so your family will not hear the hollow space inside your chest. You are building a mask before you even open the door.

But the sun is already up. It did not wait for you to feel ready.

It did not wait for you to fix the hollowness. It rose anyway, spilling light over the roof of your car, over your hands on the wheel, over the fatigue you are trying to hide.

The light does not require your performance. It is already there, waiting for you to walk inside not as a protector, but as a person.

You do not have to carry the weight of everyone's morning. The rising sun has already carried the day.