the private ritual of scrubbing your face raw in the bathroom sink to wash off the feeling of their lie sticking to your skin

Stop Scrubbing, The Light Remains

The water runs cold. You scrub until the skin burns, trying to wash away the lie that clings like oil.

But the stain you feel is not on your face—it is in the memory, and no amount of friction can remove what was spoken against you. Go into your room, close the door, and stop performing cleanliness for an empty house.

The light that lives within you was there before the lie arrived, and it remains untouched by the words that tried to define you. You are not what they said you were.

You are the light itself, shining quietly in the dawn, waiting for you to stop scrubbing and simply be.

Drawing from

Matthew 6:6, Gospel of Thomas 24

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