the specific ache of scrolling through old photos and realizing your absence would barely ripple the surface of anyone else's life

The Light That Lives Inside You

The morning light hits the screen, and you are scrolling through faces that feel like strangers now. You wonder if your absence would even ripple the surface of their lives, or if you are just a ghost in a room full of people who have moved on.

The world is busy performing okayness right now, smiling at work while breaking inside, convinced that no one sees the mask slipping. But there is a light that does not need a crowd to be real.

It shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it. You are not defined by the ripples you make in others, but by the light that lives inside you, untouched by their forgetting.

The sun rises whether anyone watches it or not. Your worth is not a reaction you provoke in others.

It is the quiet, steady flame that was placed in you before the first photo was ever taken.

Drawing from

John, Matthew

Verses

John 1:5, Matthew 6:22

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