The Light Sees You Still

The room is quiet now, but your eyes are wide open in the dark. You are pretending to be asleep so you don't have to acknowledge the moment their hand accidentally brushed yours.

That tiny spark felt like a lightning strike in the silence of the night. It woke something up that you tried to keep buried.

You hold your breath, waiting for them to notice you are awake, waiting for the question you cannot answer. But the light sees you even when you are perfectly still.

It saw you before the touch, and it sees you now. There is a name the light calls you that is not 'the one who hides.' There is a knowing that goes deeper than your pretense.

You do not have to stay frozen in the fear of being found. The thing you are afraid of acknowledging is already known.

And it is not condemned. It is simply seen.

The pretense is heavy, but the truth is lighter than you think.