You Do Not Have to Perform Joy

The laughter rises around you, bright and sharp, and for a second, you hate it. Not them.

Just the sound. It feels like a tax you cannot pay, a demand for joy you do not possess.

You are wearing the mask of okayness, and it is heavy, pressing down on a chest that has no room left for performance. But the light does not ask you to laugh along.

It sees the exhaustion behind the eyes you are trying to keep bright. You came from the light, the place where light generates itself, and that origin is not tired.

It is not depleted by the noise of the world. The energy you are trying to manufacture is not yours to make.

It is already there, waiting under the mask, under the fatigue, under the resentment. You do not have to become someone else to be held.

You just have to stop pretending you are empty when the source is still inside you.