The Light Loves What Is Behind The Mask

The lock clicks, but the shaking doesn't stop. You made it to the morning, put on the face that says you're fine, and walked through the door.

But inside your own skin, the air still feels thin. The mask is heavy today.

It feels like armor you can't take off, even when you're alone. You are performing okayness while breaking inside.

That gap between how you look and how you feel is terrifying. It makes you wonder if the safety you crave is even real.

But listen — the light does not need your performance to find you. It sees right through the mask.

It sees the exhaustion behind the smile. It knows the terror of feeling unsafe in your own body.

And it does not ask you to fix it before it comes close. The light is already inside the very skin that feels so thin.

It was there before the fear arrived. It is the ground beneath your feet when the floor feels like it's giving way.

You do not have to earn the right to feel safe. You just have to stop pretending you aren't trembling.

The light is not afraid of your shaking. It holds you while you shake.

The mask is for the world. But here, in the quiet, you can let it drop.

The light loves what is behind it. You are safe because the light is you.