ur sleeping on the couch

i want i want i want

i want to be needed, she cries, hands covering her torn masterpiece of a face; tear drops forcing her watercolor cheeks to run with dismay. i want someone to need me, i want to be worth something to someone.

how bad do you want that? i ask her.

i want it so bad that the mountains and rivers ache at my desire. i want it so heartbreakingly bad that the moon and sun both shiver at the mere sight of me. i want it so very bad, to the level where my bones are lonely and my organs are exhausted.

and how bad do you need it? i ask her. would the sun freeze, would the moon combust without it? would the mountains crumble and the rivers dry without it? would your bones break and organs fail without it? how bad do you need it? would nothing else make you happy? would your soul remain unrested?

she frowns. a feather of confusion flutters across her features.

would you like to be used? i continue. would you like to be kept around because they needed something from you? would you like it if the only reason you were around was because they needed you to do something for them so they could be happy? don't get me wrong; being needed is a beautiful thing. but being wanted is no less of a feat. to want someone, to want something even though they do not supply you with anything- to be desired. human nature is painted as such; we'll keep those things that are helpful to us. to not be helpful and to still be so fiercely wanted-

you gotta remember that being needed is not the same as being loved, you gotta remember that being wanted is not the same as being adored. your own desire to be needed- you described it as earth breaking and ocean drying. you see how strong it can be?

she sniffles, ceramic fingertips swiping stay hair away.
and when they don't want me anymore? when they decide i'm not worth keeping around?

i look at her and answer.
that's out of our control. you cannot depend on someone else's depiction of your worth; you must know what your value is before you waltz into anyone else's life. learn that it is not their fault for not loving you, not needing you, not wanting you. it is not their fault, and neither is it yours. we do not control the hearts wants and needs.

she nods, looking fragile and otherworldly. polluted with the idea of being needed and ignoring the beauty of clear cut desire- shaped by letters scrawled by a society she's desperate to please. angelic like a dirt stained silk dress. unwanted and unneeded.