The Light Lives in Your Cracks

The house is quiet now, and the mask you wore all day feels heavy enough to crush you. You are terrified that if it slips, even for a second, everyone will see the broken pieces underneath.

But the light does not need your face to be whole to shine through it. There was a woman caught in the act, surrounded by stones and eyes waiting for her to fail, yet the light bent down and saw only her, not her shame.

It did not ask her to fix herself before offering peace. The terror says you must be perfect to be loved, but the truth is that the light already lives in the cracks.

You are not hiding a broken person from the world; you are hiding the very place where the light gets out. The mask was never the point.