I don’t say this in the light because daylight asks for explanations I don’t owe. It wants clarity, labels, intention spelled out in clean sentences. But what lives here doesn’t want to be organized. It just wants to be honest.
There are things I only admit when the room is quiet enough that I don’t feel watched. When I’m not performing awareness or strength or restraint. When I’m allowed to want something without immediately deciding what to do with that wanting.
I don’t say this in the light because it would sound contradictory. Because it wouldn’t fit neatly into the version of me people recognize during the day. At night, I can hold two truths at once. I can be self-aware and still drawn in. Healed and still curious. Clear and still human.
What I don’t say is that sometimes desire lingers even after the decision has been made. Not loudly. Not enough to undo my boundaries. Just quietly enough to exist without needing to be acted on. I don’t miss chaos. I don’t miss confusion. But I remember how certain moments felt before clarity arrived.
Low light makes room for honesty without consequence. It’s where I can acknowledge the pull without mistaking it for direction. Where I can feel something without letting it rewrite my standards. This isn’t about regret. It’s about truth without performance.
I don’t say this in the light because it doesn’t need to be understood. It doesn’t need a response. It doesn’t need to become anything more than what it already is. Some confessions are allowed to exist without being resolved.
Some truths only survive in the quiet.
Final Thought: Some Desires Aren’t Instructions
Not everything you feel is meant to be followed.
Self-Awareness Disclaimer
This isn’t a secret longing or a missed opportunity. It’s acknowledgment without intention. I don’t say this in the light because it doesn’t belong to action, explanation, or closure. It belongs to honesty — and honesty doesn’t always need an audience.
