You Are the Light That Survives

The house is quieting down, and in that stillness, a thought flashes—terrifying, sharp, and sudden. You imagine the silence if they were gone, and for a split second, you feel your own lungs finally expand.

Then the guilt crashes in, heavy and suffocating, telling you that you are monstrous for needing such relief. But listen—this shadow does not mean you hate them; it means you are exhausted from carrying a weight that was never yours to hold.

The light inside you is not shocked by your fatigue, nor does it condemn the part of you that is desperate for rest. That flash of imagined freedom was not a wish for their end, but a cry from your own spirit begging to breathe.

The darkness has not overcome the love that still remains, even when you feel this drained. You are not your worst thought; you are the light that survives it.