The Light Sees Your Trembling Hand

The phone lights up on the counter, and your stomach drops. They are calling to celebrate the thing you survived, but all you feel is the weight of the mask you wore to get here.

You know their voices will be bright, expecting a version of you that smiles on command. But the light does not need your performance.

It sees the trembling hand before it ever reaches the device. What you have been trying to hide behind the 'I'm fine' is already known, already held.

The kingdom you are looking for is not in the applause waiting on the other end of the line. It is within you, quiet and steady, untouched by the noise.

You do not have to manufacture joy to be worthy of love. The truth you are afraid to speak is the very thing that will set you free.