Safe Enough to Fall Apart in Steam

The water is scalding, but the heat is the only thing that feels real tonight. You have spent the day wearing a face that isn't yours, smiling until your jaw ached, performing a version of okayness that left you hollow.

Now, in the steam, you are trying to burn through the numbness just to prove you are still alive. The light does not ask you to turn down the water or shame you for the pain.

It stands with you in the steam, closer than the heat. You do not have to perform here.

The water washes over you, and the One who knows every hidden thing sees not a failure, but a child who is finally safe enough to fall apart. The mask was heavy, but you were never meant to wear it in the dark.