THE QUIET BENEATH

Most of us move through the world wearing a kind of quiet disguise.

Not a costume you can touch or take off,

but something softer.

A smile held a moment too long,

a cheerful tone that hides the weight of tired bones,

a steady gaze that keeps its storms behind the eyes.

It isn’t dishonesty.

It’s simply how we have learned to live.

We cover what trembles.

We tuck away what aches.

We carry dreams, fears, and tender truths

like notes folded and slipped into a pocket,

too precious, or too fragile, to hand to just anyone passing by.

And yet

beneath it all,

there is always something more.

Like roots beneath the earth,

they grow unseen, shaping the tree above.

Like the ocean floor,

silent but steady, holding the tides we see.

The disguises are only ever thin.

If you look closely,

you can feel what rests beneath the surface.

In the pause before someone speaks,

in the softness behind their laughter,

in the way their eyes linger when words fall short.

And every once in a while,

in a fleeting moment of safety,

a kindness given,

a listening ear,

a silence that does not judge,

the mask slips.

And what rises is not weakness,

not shame,

but simply… truth.

The quiet, unpolished kind

that makes us human.

So maybe the point isn’t to peel away every disguise.

Maybe it’s just to remember

that behind every face you meet

is a story,

a hidden garden,

a truth waiting for the right light

to grow.