The Light Knows Your Silence

The question lands softly in the quiet room. 'How are you?' It is a small thing, a polite habit, but for you it is a cliff edge.

You rehearse the answer in the dark. 'I'm fine.' You practice the tone until it sounds like stone, so the crack in your voice does not give you away.

The mask feels heavy when there is no one left to see it. But listen — the light does not need your performance.

It is not waiting for the right words. It is already sitting beside you in the silence, knowing the truth before you speak it.

The hollow ache is not a sign that you are alone. It is the space where the light is holding what you cannot say.

You do not have to carry the weight of the lie tonight. The truth is already known, and it is loved.