The Light Burns Beneath Your Mask

The house is moving now, loud with the morning, and you are holding a smile that feels like a mask made of glass. Your child looks up, sees the crack behind the eyes, and asks the question that stops your heart: why are you sad?

You want to say you failed, that the light went out somewhere between waking up and making breakfast. But the truth is quieter than your shame.

The light does not need your performance to stay lit. It was burning before you put the smile on, and it burns still beneath the exhaustion.

You do not have to be okay for the light to hold you. The Father knows the weight you carry even when your face says otherwise.

There is a name for you that is not 'failure' and not 'tired.' Just breathe. The light sees behind the mask and loves what it finds there.