Everyone loves a lighthouse. They admire the way it stands at the edge of the world, keeping its light burning even when the sea turns violent and the sky disappears into darkness. Ships search for it when storms arrive. Lost sailors trust it to guide them home. But nobody ever asks the lighthouse if it is tired. Nobody asks what it feels like to stand there alone while waves crash against its walls. Nobody asks who keeps the fire alive when the lighthouse itself begins to flicker. Nobody asks, “Do you ever want to stop shining for a while?” Perhaps that is the hardest thing about being the one people rely on. Everyone sees the light, but few remember there is a room inside the lighthouse too. A quiet place where the keeper rests, where the storms are held silently within its walls. Maybe one day, I will stop treating myself like something that constantly needs to be fixed. Maybe I will stop asking, “How do I become better?” “How do I stop hurting people?” “How do I make sure I never fail?” Maybe I will learn that not every crack means I am falling apart. Not every moment of darkness means I have lost my way. Maybe I am allowed to be more than the light I give to others. Because even a lighthouse needs the night. Even a lighthouse needs someone to tend to its flame. And perhaps, for once, I need to stop asking how I can shine brighter. Perhaps I only need to ask, “Who will keep me lit when I am tired?” M. July 2026

Everyone loves a lighthouse. They admire the way it stands at the edge of the world, keeping its light burning even when the sea turns violent and the sky disappears into darkness. Ships search for it when storms arrive. Lost sailors trust it to guide them home. But nobody ever asks the lighthouse if it is tired. Nobody asks what it feels like to stand there alone while waves crash against its walls. Nobody asks who keeps the fire alive when the lighthouse itself begins to flicker. Nobody asks, “Do you ever want to stop shining for a while?” Perhaps that is the hardest thing about being the one people rely on. Everyone sees the light, but few remember there is a room inside the lighthouse too. A quiet place where the keeper rests, where the storms are held silently within its walls. Maybe one day, I will stop treating myself like something that constantly needs to be fixed. Maybe I will stop asking, “How do I become better?” “How do I stop hurting people?” “How do I make sure I never fail?” Maybe I will learn that not every crack means I am falling apart. Not every moment of darkness means I have lost my way. Maybe I am allowed to be more than the light I give to others. Because even a lighthouse needs the night. Even a lighthouse needs someone to tend to its flame. And perhaps, for once, I need to stop asking how I can shine brighter. Perhaps I only need to ask, “Who will keep me lit when I am tired?” M. July 2026

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