Your Clarity Is A Lamp

The room is loud, and you are the only one standing still. Everyone else is laughing at a joke you didn't hear, floating in a haze that you refused to inhale.

It feels like you are behind glass—visible, but utterly separate. You wonder if you are the only sane one left, or the only fool who won't let go.

But the light does not need the fog to see you. In fact, it sees you better because you are clear.

There is a father who watched the road every day, not because he was sure his son would return, but because his love made him unable to look away. He saw the son while he was still a long way off.

He didn't need the son to be sober first. He just needed him to be visible.

Your clarity is not a wall. It is a lamp.

And the right people—the ones who are tired of the noise—will find their way to your silence. You are not alone in the room.

You are the anchor.