I first noticed it a few weeks ago, out with friends, talking about a space I really love. While I was talking, I saw my friend’s face shift in a way I didn’t expect. It wasn’t dramatic, just subtle enough to make me wonder.
He’d always said he liked the place too. So I asked, half-curious, half-confused, “Oh, why are you looking like that?” He answered, “Oh, it’s nothing. It’s just not really my thing.”
That was all. But it bothered me a bit — though I wasn’t sure why.
Maybe it was the setting, the quiet pressure of belonging, or loyalty — I’m not sure. Whatever it was, it felt like watching someone step slightly out of themselves.
Later, talking to my friend who owns that space, I realized how often I do the same: adjusting — my tone, my energy, my way of existing — just to blend in a little smoother. And I keep wondering: how often do we become strangers to ourselves in the name of belonging?
Mirroring; Sometimes it’s an act of admiration, a quiet way of saying I see you, I like who you are. But when it becomes too visible, something feels off — as if the person’s spirit steps aside to make room for someone else, like a whole different person.
It’s tender, yes — but a little tragic — the quiet wish to belong, even if it means losing a piece of yourself.