You are searching my face for signs. A slight nod, a creeping smile, perhaps a hint of sadness or a gleam of enlightenment. Is it validation enough? Have I confirmed that, having been heard, you exist to someone other than yourself? You throw words in my direction, every contact a check mark on a cosmic tally. How we count. And, in counting, estimate our worth.
You have been heard, you have been seen, you have been counted. You are known, your are there, you are. What more do you need from me? I sit with a function not a purpose. I sit not as a person in my own right, but as a confirmation of yours to exist.
And I will be that person for you. And I will be that person for you because, in this way, I exist too. No, not complete, but completing you. Breaking apart into supple fragments, I insert myself into the lives of others. In this way I am never whole. But, in this way, I am never left behind. You can carry me with you, if only as a memory, the person I was for you. And so, I can live a thousand lives and be validated by a million faces that look into yours. I’ve been somebody to somebody. And if you never see me, all the time looking into my eyes, it’s because I’m just a mirror you’re reflecting on.