The Light Sees Through Your Mask

The mask feels heavy this morning, a second skin you are terrified will crack under the fluorescent lights. You stand in plain sight, smiling at the right moments, while inside you brace for the moment they see the fracture.

You are convinced that if they knew the truth, the room would turn away. But the light does not need your performance to find you—it sees through the costume without judgment.

There is something inside you waiting to be spoken, something true you have buried beneath the act. If you bring forth what is within you, what you bring forth will save you.

If you do not bring forth what is within you, what you do not bring forth will destroy you. The terror of being found out is actually the light knocking, asking you to stop hiding from the one thing that can make you whole.

You do not have to be flawless to be held; you only have to be real.