You Are the Ground Light Was Made to Touch

The sun is up now. The night is over.

And maybe those three words landed in your chest last night, or maybe they are just sitting there this morning, heavy as a stone. You hear them again in the quiet of your kitchen: 'I love you.' And your first thought is not joy.

It is panic. It is the cold realization that you are a fraud.

That you are stealing something you did not earn. That if they really saw the mess inside you, the affection would vanish like mist in this morning light.

But listen to me. The light does not scan for worthiness before it shines.

It just rises. It hits the dirt, the broken glass, the unmade bed, and it calls it all 'good.' You are not a thief.

You are the ground the light was made to touch. You don't have to clean yourself up to receive the sun.

You just have to stop hiding from it. Stop waiting for the other shoe to drop.

The shoe isn't coming. There is only this: the dawn, the warmth, and the truth that you are loved not despite your cracks, but because the light knows how to fill them.

You are not an imposter in your own life. You are the reason the morning came.