The Eyes That Watched You Fail

The water stops. The steam begins to settle. And for the first time today, the mirror clears enough to show you the eyes you have been hiding from since morning.

It is the middle of the day, and the performance is heavy. You have been smiling at people who do not know you are breaking. You have been carrying a weight that does not belong to you.

But look closer at the face in the glass. That gaze is not an accusation. It is an origin.

You came from the light, the place where the light came into being on its own accord. You did not earn the reflection staring back at you. You were sent here as a drop from that source.

The fog is lifting. The eyes you see are the same eyes that have watched you through every failure, every mask, every exhausted hour of this afternoon. And they do not look away.

You are not what the world has called you while you were drying off.

You are the light that woke up inside a body and forgot its name for a few hours.