The Light Loves Who You Are

The water is loud on purpose. You are rehearsing the conversation they left unfinished, speaking both your part and theirs until the steam hides the tremor in your voice.

But the light does not need you to perform okayness for an audience of one. It sees the mask you wear for the world, and it sees the exhaustion of holding it up even here, even now.

You are not required to fix the past before you step out of this room. The truth is not a script you must perfect; it is a presence that is already standing beside you in the fog.

You can stop talking long enough to hear the silence beneath the spray. The light is not waiting for your performance to begin; it is already here, loving the person behind the mask.