The Light Sees Behind Your Mask

The sun is up, and the mask is already on your face before you've even left the bed. You lie perfectly still next to someone who thinks you are asleep, while inside your head, you are frantically rehearsing tomorrow's jokes, tomorrow's smiles, tomorrow's performance of being okay.

The gap between how you look and how you feel feels like a canyon today. But the light sees behind the mask.

It knows the exhaustion of pretending to be full when you are empty. There is a truth living inside you that is greater than your heart's condemnation, greater than the script you are writing for yourself.

You do not have to be perfect to be held. You only have to be honest.

The light is not asking for your performance; it is asking for your presence. Stop rehearsing.

Just breathe. The mask can wait; the light cannot.