You Are Not A Secret Waiting To Be Kept

The sun is up, and the mask is already on. You laughed a moment ago—a real laugh, maybe the first in days—and then the terror hit.

The sudden, cold certainty that everyone sees the crack in the paint. That your joy was a performance, and now the curtain is about to rip open to reveal the fraud underneath.

You brace for the exposure. You wait for the whisper to start.

But listen. The light does not see a fraud.

It sees a child of the light. You came from the light, the place where the light came into being on its own accord.

That is your origin, not the shame you are hiding. There is light within a person of light, and it lights up the whole world.

If it does not shine, it is dark. The fear tells you to run, to cover up, to pretend you are something else.

But the dawn is here, and it knows you. You do not have to earn the right to stand in it.

The light was there before the laugh, and it is there after the silence falls. You are not a secret waiting to be kept.

You are the light itself, waking up.