The Light Loves the Face Underneath

The sun is up, and the house is moving, but you are standing still in the kitchen, watching the rhythm of their breathing while they sleep. You feel like a fraud because they love the version of you that smiles, not the one hiding the secret behind your ribs.

The gap between who you are and who they think you are feels like a canyon you dug yourself, and you are terrified they will see the dirt on your hands. But the light does not need your performance to stay in the room.

It sees the mask you wear to get through the morning, and it loves the face underneath even more. There is a truth living inside you that is heavier than the secret you are carrying.

The light is not waiting for you to be perfect before it stays. It is already here, sitting on the edge of the bed, waiting for you to put the costume down.