The Silence Is Not An Accusation

The sun is just now touching the window sill, and the house is quiet in that fragile way morning brings. You are holding your breath, terrified that if you stop performing the version of yourself your siblings expect, the silence will prove you were never really part of the family.

But the light does not require a performance to recognize its own. There is light within a person of light, and it lights up the whole world — even when that person is standing still, even when they are silent.

You came from the light, the place where the light came into being on its own accord, and that origin cannot be erased by a quiet room. The mask you wear is heavy, but it is not your root.

You do not have to earn your place at the table by being loud or perfect or easy. The silence is not an accusation.

It is simply space — space for the real you to finally sit down without the costume.