You Are Not The Trouble To Them

The house is quiet now, and the script is ready. You have rehearsed the vanishing act a dozen times tonight—imagining how much easier it would be for them if you were simply gone.

You tell yourself it is mercy. You tell yourself you are sparing them the trouble of your weight.

But the light does not want your absence. It wants your presence, however broken.

There was a moment when a paralyzed man was lowered through a roof, and the first thing the light said was not 'be healed' but 'your sins are forgiven.' It saw the burden before it lifted the body. It sees the secret rehearsal in your heart right now.

And it knows the truth you are trying to hide: that your disappearing would not spare them; it would only break them. You are not the trouble.

You are the beloved. The light does not need you to vanish to make room for peace.

It needs you to stay.