When the illusion feels too real
and the weight of your smallness crushes you,
remember this is theater—
high stakes, yes, but scripted for feeling,
not for final victory or permanent defeat.
Every heartbreak is a scene change.
Every triumph is just bright lighting
on an otherwise ordinary stage.
Applaud the actors around you,
even the ones who play the villain—
they too forgot their lines long ago
and are improvising through fear,
Do not waste too much breath
trying to convince others
that the play is not real.
or simply bored by the reminder.
Instead, become the quiet friend
who hands someone a tissue in the dark
without needing to explain why they’re crying.
Your job is not to wake the whole theater—
your job is to love so honestly
that a few sleeping souls
and remember the taste of light
before the curtain falls again.
And when the credits finally roll—
and the density dissolves
and you feel the familiar pull
back toward the endless quiet—
do not look back with regret.
You were never meant to stay clean.
You were meant to get muddy,
to laugh until your sides ached,
to hold someone trembling
and let yourself be held in return.
Bring home every scraped knee,
every time you dared to care anyway.
Source is not waiting for perfection.
Source is waiting to hear the stories
the messy, tender, ridiculous,
brief, beautiful human ones.
We have all of eternity to listen.
baratheonpilled
amandla
andulkaphoto
2087
theartofmadeline
