The Crack Where Light Gets In

The morning light is unforgiving; it reveals every crack in the mask you spent the night constructing. You stand before the mirror, smoothing the surface, terrified that if someone saw the fracture, the hand reaching for you would pull back.

So you flinch. You turn away.

And now you carry the phantom weight of a touch that never landed, a warmth you denied yourself because you believed your brokenness was too heavy to hold. But listen — what you are hiding is not a disqualification.

It is the very place where the light gets in. There is a truth living inside you that arrived before the fear, before the crack, before the hiding began.

It has not left because you covered it up. The light does not need you to be whole to love you; it needs you to be honest.

Stop trying to fix the surface. The one who sees the crack is the only one who can heal it.