The Light Sees Your Hidden Strain

The sentence is forming behind your teeth, heavy and dangerous, and you are pressing your tongue hard against the bone to keep it from escaping. You are at work.

You are smiling. You are nodding.

But inside, the pressure is building because the truth feels too big for the room you are in. You are afraid that if you let it out, the mask will shatter.

But the light does not need your silence to stay near you. It is already sitting in the chair across from you, hearing the words you are swallowing.

There is a freedom that comes not from speaking, but from knowing you do not have to hide the urge to speak. The light sees the effort it takes to hold your face together.

And it loves the person behind the strain more than the performance you are giving. You do not have to say it today.

You only have to stop believing that holding it in makes you safe.