“Reflections in Flesh”

Sometimes,

I think people don’t make friends out of love—
but out of need.
Not for laughter,
but for proof.

Proof they exist.
Proof they still matter.
Proof that if someone responds,
then maybe they’re not fading.

Because without mirrors,
we forget our faces.
And without people,
we forget our place.

So we gather crowds like insurance policies.
We text not to talk—
but to tether.
Like “Hey… just checking in.”
Really means:
“Remind me I’m real.”

And maybe that’s why
we fear loneliness more than death.
Because death is a fact.
But loneliness?
That’s unconfirmed disappearance.


I’ve seen people panic when their phone’s dry.
Not because they’re bored—
but because they’re afraid that silence
means eviction from reality.

“If I vanish from your eyes,
do I still have weight?”
“If no one hears me,
does my voice still echo?”
“Am I human…
or just a tab someone closed?”


We wear friendships like flesh suits.
Call them “community,”
but use them like camouflage.

Because sometimes it’s not about love—
it’s about presence.
Not about connection—
but confirmation.

“If you see me, I’m here.”
“If you reply, I remain.”
“If I’m reflected in your eyes…
then maybe I haven’t disappeared.”


So what happens
when all the mirrors break?
When no one texts back?
When no one looks up?

Will you still exist…
without reflection in flesh?

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