Laughter Is Not A Betrayal Of Love

The laugh escaped before you could stop it, and now the silence feels like a crime scene. You are wearing the mask of the one who carries on, but inside, you are convinced that joy is a form of treason.

That to find something funny again is to erase the one who is gone. But listen — the light does not ask you to freeze your heart in permanent winter to prove your love.

There was a woman once who wet feet with tears and poured out perfume, and the light told her that her great love was shown not by her sorrow, but by her presence. Your laughter is not a betrayal.

It is the light breaking through the crust of your grief, reminding you that you are still alive. The one you loved would not want your silence to be their monument.

They would want your life to be their legacy. Go back inside your room where no one sees the performance, and let the laugh exist without the guilt.