The Light Does Not Need Your Performance

The water runs so no one hears the crack in your voice as you practice the word 'fine.' You stand in the small room, rehearsing a lie just to make it through the next hour. But the light does not need your performance.

It came from the place where light generates itself, and it lives in you still. You are not the mask you wear for the table.

You are the drop sent from that source to illuminate this very house. The father saw his son while he was still a long way off—he did not wait for the speech to be perfect.

He ran. The light knows you are tired of pretending.

Put down the act. Walk out not as the person who has it all together, but as the one who is finally known.