I do not exist when I’m alone.
Not in any way that matters.
I move, I breathe, I think,
But it feels weightless, distant,
Like a story left open in an empty room,
Pages turning for no one.
Nothing is real until someone is there.
Until a glance, a word, a touch
Pulls me from the quiet.
Like I am only a reflection,
Flickering into being when seen,
Vanishing when the mirror stands empty.
Do I exist when no one is looking?
Or do I fade into the spaces between moments?
Drifting somewhere between thought and absence,
A pause too long, a whisper among the breeze,
A shadow with nothing to cast it.
And when I step back into the world,
I pull myself together with careful hands,
Wearing the shape they expect to see,
Smiling, speaking,
As if I had been whole all along.
Maybe that’s why I hold onto every word,
Every glance, every touch.
Because in those fleeting seconds,
I am seen.
I am something.
I exist.
