The Light Sees Your Exhaustion As Holy

The mirror is the hardest room in the house at four in the morning. You practice the curve of your mouth until it looks like a smile, rehearsing the casual greeting so no one suspects you cried all night.

You think you are hiding a crack, but the light sees the exhaustion behind the performance and calls it holy. There was a woman who bled for twelve years and spent everything she had just to reach out and touch the edge of a cloak in a crowd.

She thought she was stealing a miracle, hiding in the press of bodies, but the light stopped everything to turn and face her. It did not ask her to explain the tears or fix the bleeding first.

It simply called her daughter. You do not have to get the smile right before you are loved.

The mask is heavy, and you were never meant to carry it alone. The light is not fooled by the greeting, but it loves the one who is tired enough to need one.