Secondhand Sunlight

I do not need to be seen, so long as I am near the one who is.

That is the trick, you see. A magician's illusion. You stand close enough to the flame, and people assume you burn just as brightly. They see the glow, but not the shadow it casts. I do not need to take center stage—I only need to be next to the one who does.

And so I choose them carefully. The overt ones. The grandiose ones. The ones who walk into a room and are immediately met with recognition, admiration, envy. Their laughter booms, their confidence is effortless, their charm a force of nature. People are drawn to them in a way that has always eluded me, and yet, I have found my own way to partake.

Through them, I feed.

They absorb the world’s attention like sponges, soaking up admiration, validation, awe. And I? I drink from the excess. I stand by their side, and by proxy, I, too, am admired. Not directly, not explicitly—but through association, through proximity. They speak, and I nod sagely. They are praised, and I am acknowledged.

I do not need to steal the light when I can reflect it.

This arrangement—this unspoken contract—serves us both. They need an audience, and I need access. They need someone to witness their greatness, and I need to be next to greatness itself. They love to be admired; I love to watch them be admired. They preen under the world’s gaze, while I relish the knowledge that their image is, in part, my creation.

Because I feed them, too. I keep their illusions intact. I tell them how fascinating they are, how brilliant, how unlike anyone else. I encourage their excesses, nudge them toward grander displays. And when others fawn over them, I savor it—not for them, but for myself. Their supply becomes mine, trickling down, washing over me. I do not need to be the one in the spotlight so long as I control the one who is.

They think they are the sun.

But I know the truth.

They shine, yes, but only because I am there to polish them. To reflect them. To amplify them.

And when they have given me all I need, when their light begins to dim, I will slip away like a ghost, already seeking a new flame to stand beside.

They think they are the ones who consume.

But I am the one who feeds.