The Light Waits for the Mask to Slip

The sun is coming up, and for a moment, the glass turns into a mirror. You see a face there that feels like a stranger—worn thin by the performance of yesterday.

It is terrifying to look at yourself and not recognize the eyes staring back. But the light does not need you to be someone else to shine through you.

It waits for the mask to slip. You do not have to earn the right to exist in this new morning.

The rising sun does not ask the earth to be perfect before it touches the ground. It simply arrives.

The face in the glass is not a stranger; it is just tired. And the light that is waking up outside is the same light that has never left the room inside you.

You made it through the night, and that is enough.