The Light Loves What Bleeds

The sun is up, but the mask feels heavier than the night did. Someone asks how you are, and your throat closes because the truth would shatter the room.

You stand there, holding the pieces of yourself together with a smile that costs too much. But listen — the light does not need you to hold it together.

It is already rising, quiet and relentless, behind the performance. There is a peace waiting for you that is not like the world's peace, a peace that does not depend on your ability to explain yourself.

Do not let your heart be troubled by the silence you carry. The light sees the crack in the mask and loves what is bleeding underneath.

You do not have to speak to be held. Morning is not a demand to be okay; it is simply an invitation to breathe again.