Let the Mask Fall in the Dark

The sun has gone down, and now the house is quiet enough to hear the screaming. You have spent the day wearing a mask that feels like it is fused to your skin—smiling, nodding, pretending the light inside you is bright and steady.

But tonight, in the gathering dark, the mask feels heavy. It feels like a lie.

You are afraid that if you stop performing, the light will go out forever. But listen—the darkness you feel is not the absence of God.

It is the friction of the false self finally cracking. The light does not need your performance to survive.

It was there before you learned to pretend, and it is there now, beneath the exhaustion. You do not have to hold it up tonight.

Let the mask fall. The light can breathe in the dark.