The Permission Was Inside You All Along

The mask is heavy this morning, isn't it? You spent years holding your breath, waiting for someone to finally say the words that would make it okay for you to exist.

You waited for a signature on a permission slip that only you could sign. The guilt of those lost years feels like a stone in your chest, whispering that you should have known better, that you wasted time.

But the light does not scold you for the wait. It simply walks into the room where you are performing okayness and asks you to put the mask down.

You are not a fraud for having worn it; you were surviving. The delay was not your fault.

The father saw the son while he was still a long way off and ran before the apology was even finished. You do not need to explain the years.

You do not need to earn the right to breathe now. The permission was inside you all along, written in light before the first moment of doubt.

The waiting is over because you are here, and that is enough.