You have spent years trying to make yourself clear, and nobody ever asked you to. You are not the light. You are the glass.

There is a light in the person who hurt you that their worst moment never touched. You have never seen it, because you have been looking at the mask.

You have spent your life paying for your worth, quietly, daily, as if the bill were still open. What if it was sealed before you were born?

You have spent your whole life repairing something. What if the wound was never there, and the brokenness you keep patching is only clay over gold?

You have spent your life believing you are one small fragment of something vast. What if nothing was ever broken?

The doorway you have been searching for has no door. It has been open the whole time, and you have been standing inside it.

The past you keep replaying is already over. It ended the instant it began. So what is still running the film?

There is nothing to forgive. Not because the betrayal did not happen, and not because it did not hurt.

A miracle changes nothing. It moves nothing in the world, rewrites no history, repaints nothing you are looking at.

The voice that frightens you was never you. And you have obeyed it your whole life.

You have spent years trying to fix the world so you could finally feel peace. What if the picture was never on the screen?