You Are Not A Stranger Here

The morning light hits the window and you put on the face that says you are fine. You walk into the room where your people are laughing, and you laugh with them, but you feel like a ghost haunting your own life.

You have been so busy surviving the storm that you forgot how to sit at the table. You are present in body, but your spirit is still out in the dark, fighting battles they cannot see.

It feels like a betrayal to smile when you are hollow. But the light does not demand a performance from you.

It sees the mask, and it sees the exhaustion holding it up. The light knows you are tired of pretending to be okay.

You do not have to take the mask off all at once. Just let it slip for a moment.

Let them see the tired eyes. The love in the room is not waiting for your strength; it is waiting for your presence.

Even the broken version of you is enough to be loved. You are not a stranger here.

You are the one they have been waiting for.