You Are the Listening, Not the Voice

The morning light hits the mirror, and you put on the face that says you are fine. You hear your own voice recorded, played back, and it sounds like a stranger mimicking a human.

Like an imposter wearing your skin. The gap between how you look and how you feel feels like a canyon you cannot cross.

But the light does not listen to the recording. It sees the one behind the mask.

There is a voice that knows you before you speak a single word. It is not fooled by the performance.

It is not disappointed by the crack in your tone. The light lives in the silence between your thoughts, where no recording can reach.

You are not the voice you hate. You are the listening that hears it.