I eat dinner alone. Every night, sort of. It’s not a choice, really, more a byproduct of working long hours and living far from family. My parents still call, "Did you eat? What did you eat?" as if I’m still a child in their house. They don't understand that here, there's no communal meal. It's just... me. My plate. The silence. So I found this streamer. He's just... a guy. Plays games, talks about his day, sometimes cooks. Nothing profound. But I started putting him on during dinner. It started as background noise, I guess. Now, it’s... ritualistic. I time my dinner with his stream. I make something simple, usually, something I can eat quickly. Sometimes he'll say, "What's everyone having for dinner tonight?" and I actually, genuinely, answer him out loud. Like he can hear me. And I know it’s not real. I know he’s talking to hundreds, thousands of people. I'm just another anonymous viewer. But when he laughs at something, or makes a comment about a frustrating day, it feels like... he's talking to *me*. Like we're sharing a meal. Like we're having a conversation. I'll even respond to his questions, sort of, under my breath. "Oh, yeah, that game WAS tough." Or, "No, I haven't tried that recipe either." It's almost pathological, I think. This simulated social interaction. My older cousin, the one who moved back to the homeland, she’s always asking about my "social life." My "prospects." She doesn’t get it. How do I explain that my closest 'friend' during dinner is a person on a screen who doesn't even know I exist? It’s not loneliness, exactly. Or, maybe it is. I don’t know. It feels more like… a sustained delusion, maybe. A coping mechanism, at minimum. A temporary suspension of reality. A pseudo-communion. And I don’t know if it’s healthy, or if I should stop. But the thought of eating dinner in absolute silence now... it feels impossible. Unbearable, even.