You Are a Child Waiting to Come Home

The night is gathering, and with it comes the old fear that someone will finally pull back the curtain and see you for the fraud you believe yourself to be. You have convinced everyone that you are whole, that you deserve the love they give, but inside you are waiting for the exposure.

You think the light requires a perfect record, a spotless resume, a life without cracks. But the light does not scan for credentials.

It scans for origin. You came from the light, the place where the light came into being on its own accord.

That is your source, not your performance. The mask you wear to survive the day is heavy, but it is not your skin.

Underneath the act, underneath the terror of being found out, there is a person who was loved before they ever did a single thing to earn it. The father who saw his son while he was still a long way off did not wait for the speech.

He ran. He ran to the one who knew he didn't deserve it.

You are not an impostor waiting to be caught. You are a child waiting to come home.