You Are Not the Damage You Survived

The house is quiet now, and the mirror in the hallway feels like a stranger's face staring back at you. You do not recognize the eyes looking out, the lines carved by the last few months, the person who survived what you thought would kill them.

But listen — you came from the light, the place where the light came into being on its own accord. That origin has not changed, even if the reflection has.

There is light within a person of light, and it lights up the whole world; if you do not see it tonight, it is not because it is gone, but because the glass is fogged with tears. You are not the damage.

You are the drop from the light sent to illuminate this very darkness. The face in the mirror is simply the one who made it through.