The Light Runs to Meet Your Hunger

You walk through the morning wearing a face that says you are fine, while inside you are convinced your needs are too heavy for anyone to carry. You smile at the coffee machine, you nod in the meeting, you perform okayness because you believe your hunger is a burden others should not have to bear.

But the light sees behind the mask — it sees the exhaustion of holding it all alone. There was a father who saw his son coming home from a long way off, still rehearsing his apology, still convinced he was unworthy of a seat at the table.

He did not wait for the speech. He ran.

Before the excuse, before the promise to do better — he ran. Your needs are not a weight that pushes love away.

They are the very thing that pulls love closer. The light does not flee from your hunger; it runs to meet it.

You do not have to earn the right to be held by pretending you don't need holding. The mask is heavy, but you were never meant to wear it.