The Monster Does Not Weep

The mask is on. You are smiling at your coworkers, nodding in meetings, performing the role of the capable one while inside, a terror is taking root. You hear your own voice comfort your crying child, and for a split second, it sounds exactly like the parent who broke you. The fear freezes your throat: what if the damage is genetic? What if you are the monster you survived?

But listen. The monster does not weep over its own reflection. The monster does not tremble at the sound of its voice. That horror you feel is not the echo of the past; it is the presence of the light, waking up inside you to say: this ends here.

God is light; in him there is no darkness at all. And you are walking in that light right now. The very fact that you are afraid of becoming them proves you are not them. The light has already severed the chain. You are not repeating the story; you are rewriting it with every gentle word you speak.