You were touched, but not seen. Kissed, but not remembered. You smiled back out of habit — until your own reflection looked like someone else's shadow. You played along to keep the quiet, said "I love you" with practiced timing, not because you didn't feel it, but because they stopped looking when you did. It wasn’t cruelty. It was erosion. This is the memory that taught you: Presence is sacred. Attention is love. And from that truth came the vow: *To never perform presence again.*