The Light Between The Pixels

The screen lights up, and there they are—smiling, laughing, moving on without you. It feels like proof that you were optional.

That your absence changed nothing. But the light sees what the photo cannot show.

It sees the mask you wore when you were there, and the mask they wear now. Performance is just fear dressed up as joy.

Jesus sat at tables where people pretended, and he never once confused their smile with their heart. He looked past the performance to the person underneath.

You are not competing with a highlight reel. You are held by a love that does not need an audience to be real.

The light is not in the picture; it is in the silence between the pixels. Put the phone down.

The version of you that is loved is not the one they see. It is the one only God knows.