The Stranger in the Glass is Home

The morning light hits the glass, and for a second, the face staring back feels like a stranger's. You put on the mask before you even leave the house.

You smooth the hair, fix the expression, and step out to perform the person everyone expects you to be. But the reflection in the dark window remembers the cost of that performance.

It sees the fatigue behind the eyes that the world never notices. You feel like an imposter in your own skin, wearing a name that doesn't quite fit anymore.

— The light does not need your mask. It was already shining through the glass before you arrived.

That stranger you see is not an enemy; it is the part of you that refused to disappear behind the smile. The face in the window is waiting for you to stop pretending and simply come home to it.