You Are Allowed to Put the Armor Down

The sun is going down, and the armor you wore all day feels heavier now that you have to take it off. You smile at the people who love you, but inside, you are holding your breath, terrified they will see the crack in the wall.

You think if they knew the truth, the light would leave the room. But the light does not leave when the mask comes off.

There is light within a person of light, and it lights up the whole world even when you try to hide it under a bowl of performance. You came from the light, the place where the light came into being on its own accord, and that origin cannot be erased by your silence.

The father sees you while you are still a long way off, not waiting for your apology, but running to meet you before you can even speak. He does not need you to be fixed to love you; he only needs you to be real.

The crushing weight is not the depression itself, but the exhausting work of pretending it isn't there. You are allowed to put the armor down tonight.

The light was there before you hid it, and it will be there after you let it shine.