Do I Exist?

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.