Something crossed my mind recently.
It was how people say they perceive me.
That I am a ray of sunshine.
That I am their cup of tea.
I often wondered why.
Because sunshine is not how I see myself. And I never felt good enough to be someone's cup of tea.
Sometimes, I even questioned whether I was being deceitful somehow-showing people something that did not feel like the whole of me.
I never felt like the sun.
I examined my inner self over and over, searching for the answer.
Then I finally looked outward and realized:
I'm wearing the sun on my sleeve.
I finally understand why.
I smile easily.
I try to be gentle.
I like making people feel warm, welcomed, and a little less alone.
All of those things are real.
But inside, l am the moon.
Quiet. Reflective. Drawn to stillness. More comfortable in soft light than in brightness. Full of phases most people never notice unless they stay long enough to look.
Maybe that is why people mistake me for sunlight.
They see the light I give.
They do not always see the night I carry.
My light is not bright—it is soft—but bright enough for those in the dark.
And I suppose those who have been walking in the dark for too long may mistake the first light they see for the sun.
And that is okay.
The moon has always known how to hold light without becoming the sun.
