The Illusion of Reciprocity

The Illusion of Reciprocity

Marie381Uk stared at her Vocal.Media dashboard, her latest poem sitting at a measly five likes while others—writers she had generously supported—racked up hundreds. She had spent weeks pouring her heart into reading, commenting, and liking others’ work, hoping to build a community of mutual appreciation. But the truth became clear: most people weren’t here to lift others up. They were here to be seen.

She scrolled past familiar names, the ones who won competitions, got Top Stories, and amassed recognition. She had liked their work, commented with encouragement, and even shared their pieces. At first, they responded with gratitude, but now? Silence. No returned likes, no comments, no sign that they even noticed the hands that had clapped for them on their way up. Would they have won without us?

The realization was bitter. Without the quiet supporters—the ones who read, engaged, and boosted visibility—these writers wouldn’t have the numbers, the attention, the prizes. It was an unspoken truth: Vocal.Media rewarded those who were seen, but only a handful remembered to share that visibility in return.

Marie closed her laptop, rubbing her temples. She had always believed in community, in the idea that if she lifted others, they would lift her in return. But the system didn’t work that way. It was a cycle of taking. A few generous souls gave freely, expecting nothing, while others basked in the rewards of that generosity without a second thought.

She had seen it happen time and time again. Writers who started out unknown, desperate for recognition, leaned heavily on the kindness of the community. They liked, commented, and engaged—until they got what they needed. Then, as their numbers grew, they disappeared from the cycle. They no longer had time to support those who had once supported them. It was as if they had climbed the ladder and kicked it away, ensuring no one else could follow.Still, she was thankful for the handful of her 156 followers who supported her consistently. Their kindness meant everything, even if it was a small group. They were proof that not everyone was in it just for themselves.

Feeling sad, she wondered—what if likes were banned? What if Vocal required every user to support a certain number of writers before they could win, be featured, or even enter a contest? Maybe then, new names would rise. Maybe the same few wouldn’t win every time. Maybe the platform would become what it claimed to be: a community.

She glanced at her notifications. A few thank-you messages from new writers, hopeful and eager, just as she had once been. They still believed in the give-and-take, in the dream of a space where artists lifted one another.Was it worth it to keep going for them?

She opened a new post, fingers hesitating over the keyboard. Maybe she would write about this—about the imbalance, about how support should be mutual, about how Vocal.Media thrived on the labor of the unseen. Maybe, just maybe, someone would read it and feel the same. Maybe, for once, someone at the top would remember where they came from and extend a hand back down.Or maybe, Marie thought, nothing would change She sighed, but she began typing anyway. If you take and don’t give back, think about this short story. This Story what can you learn from it? I would also like to say the followers I have who genuinely care I know who you all are, Thank you for being there for me 💕❤️💕