The Light Does Not Need Your Mask

The house is quiet, but your heart is racing against the silence. You hear footsteps approaching down the hall, and you are still frantically trying to compose a face that looks like it slept, like it isn't breaking.

You smooth the edges of your expression, desperate to hide the night that just happened. But the light does not need your mask to find you.

It was already there, waiting in the glass before you even woke up. You do not have to finish fixing yourself before you step out of this room.

The rising sun comes to those living in the shadow of death not to judge their tired eyes, but to guide their feet. You are not required to be perfect to be loved.

You are only required to be present. The mask is heavy, but the light is lighter still.