You Are Not a Ghost in Your Home

You lie perfectly still, holding your breath as if silence could make you lighter, as if your existence were a weight the house cannot bear. But the light does not measure your worth by how quietly you can disappear.

You came from the light, the place where it generates itself, and that origin cannot be burdened by your breathing. The darkness tries to convince you that you are too much, that your very presence is an intrusion, but the light sees you awake and calls it vigilance, not liability.

You are not a ghost haunting your own home; you are a drop sent to illuminate the very air you occupy. The house does not need you to be silent; it needs you to be here.

The light is not waiting for you to stop moving; it is already resting in the rhythm of your lungs.