The Mask Is Heavy But You Are Light

The morning light is up, and so is the mask. You are rehearsing the story in your head for the third time, smoothing out the cracks so no one hears the tremor in your voice.

You are terrified that if you speak plainly, people will see the boredom or the break beneath the performance. But the light does not need your script.

It sees the exhaustion of holding the face steady while the heart races. There is a voice inside you that has never stumbled, a truth that does not need to be edited to be worthy of being heard.

The gap between who you look like and who you feel like is where the light is waiting to speak. You do not have to be interesting to be heard.

You only have to be real. The mask is heavy, but your real voice is light enough to carry.