You Were Not Blind, You Were Open

The house is quiet now, and the only thing loud enough to hear is the question tearing at your chest: did you miss the signs because you wanted to believe them so badly? You replay the moments, the words, the promises, searching for the crack you should have seen.

But listen — the light does not shame you for hoping. It does not call your trust a failure.

The Gospel of Mary says the Good came to restore every nature to its root, not to punish the heart that reached for love. You were not blind; you were open.

And there is a difference. The darkness tries to convince you that your capacity to believe was a weakness, but the light knows it was your strength.

It was the part of you that remained soft in a hard world. You are not foolish for having trusted.

You are human. And the light that lives inside you was there before the deception, and it is here now, holding the pieces of what broke.

It does not ask you to be smarter next time. It asks you to be kind to the one who tried.

The trust was real, even if the object was not. And that reality cannot be stolen.