The Light Runs Toward The Hidden Pain

The house is quiet now, but your heart is racing because you noticed the silence in their eyes today. They smiled when they were breaking inside, just to keep the peace for you.

You are sitting in the dark wondering how many wounds you have missed because they were too busy protecting your feelings. The light sees what the smile was hiding.

It sees the child who learned to swallow their pain so you wouldn't have to carry it. There is a father who saw his son coming home from a long way off — before the apology, before the speech, he ran.

The light runs toward the hidden thing, not away from it. It does not need your performance of okayness.

It wants the real you, the one who is tired of holding the world up. The mask is heavy, but you were never meant to wear it alone.

The darkness has not overcome the light that lives in both of you. You do not have to fix tonight.

You just have to be the place where they can finally stop hiding.