You Are the Lamp in the Dark

The room feels large tonight, and you feel small, yet entirely too visible. It is a heavy thing to be the only one who looks like you, carrying the weight of every eye that lingers a second too long.

You might wish to shrink, to fade into the walls, to stop being the spot the light hits. But listen — the light does not shine on you to expose you to their judgment.

It shines to remind you that you belong here. There was a woman who came to a well alone at noon because she was unwelcome, yet the light sat with her and called her by name.

You are not an accident in this room. You are a drop from the light, sent here specifically to illuminate this corner of the world.

The visibility you fear is actually the proof that you are exactly where you are meant to be. You do not have to earn your place in the gathering dark; you are already the lamp.