You Do Not Have to Be Steady

The house is quiet now, but your heart is still racing through tomorrow's conversation. You lie perfectly still, holding your breath so the person beside you won't feel the tremor running through your bones.

You are rehearsing lines you haven't spoken yet, fighting battles in the dark that belong to the morning light. But listen — the love that holds this room together is not fragile enough to break because you are shaking.

You do not have to be steady to be safe. The light does not ask you to stop trembling before it comes near; it comes near because you are trembling.

Peace is not the absence of the storm inside you. It is the presence of something deeper than the fear.

You can put the script down. The morning will meet you with enough grace for the words you actually need, not the ones you are inventing now.