The Light Waits Behind The Snap

The smile is still on your face, but inside, you are already rewriting the last ten minutes. You catch yourself rehearsing the apology while still standing in the room where you snapped.

The mask feels heavy now, a rigid thing you cannot take off without everyone seeing the crack. You are performing okayness for an audience that likely didn't notice the tremor in your voice.

But there is a light that sees behind the performance — and it does not flinch. It knows the snap was not the whole truth of you.

The darkness has not overcome the light that lives beneath the shame. You do not have to fix this moment before you are loved.

The light is already there, waiting in the silence after the words. You are not your worst reaction.