Sunday, December 1, 2013

I Need You to Need Me

(insert British accent . . . cockney)

Do you want me to teach ya' to walk and talk like a regula' lady?

Damn confession . . .

There is nothing cathartic about it. There is stubborn, stupid, and then there is determined. Perhaps you are so determined as to convince everyone around you, you need no one. When Barbara or some musical fanatic started waylaying you with the glorified lyrics of an infatuated pleaser, "People who need people are the luckiest people in the world," it was all you could do not to smack them silly with their piano keys. "People? I don't need no stinking people." The absurdity of such an idea. People leave a metallic taste on the tongue; iron deficient you seek as any other 'normal' people hater person to vanquish a deficiency. It is a weakness after all. If you can't fulfill a craving . . . you fantasize. I wonder what a vampire would do in this situation. Maybe oxygen deprivation will silence the fodder sanity feeders?

Your morning pep talk didn't work. You didn't review A Hermit's Guide to Everyday Anti-Social Behavior enough times to earn your doctorate or that life time achievement award you have been aiming for. No, in a word, your determination was lacking. Your closing argument could use a good polish . . . or two.

I need people. I may grit my teeth and hold my breath until I pass out  . . . 10 times at least, but I need people. You need people.

I need the boy who broke my heart. By golly there was a reason or a lesson to be learned in there somewhere.

I need the person who finds the time to comment, even two little words, "Thank you," which causes a gleeful squeal. Recognition. A hug directly to my heart.

I need the people whose talking aggravates me to the point of speechless exhaustion. Hey, we all need our "counting sheep" enablers. Your aggravations will be tomorrow's muse. My words will be many.

I need the people who "man handle" me verbally and mentally for the sake of scruples. You help me identify better than anyone, my own identity. You prepare me to define, perfect, and achieve that with which you are convinced is a fool's errand. You teach me the sound of ignorance and that it has no age or limitations.

I need the people who see the sign above the door in pursuit of another venture and halt traffic to turn around. Books. I see the mental "Touch Down" as you walk in. You are my brother, sister, mother, father, child, friend, or lover from that far off corner we sought refuge together in . . . worlds apart, but common in passion.

I need the people who can pull me from the dark recesses of my mind. You take me by hand and heart, whispering "You are not alone." You cry for me and with me. You listen calmly and patiently while I try to convince you how much I don't need people. You find the path for me and know I may not follow, but no matter you stay.

You need people like a whole in the head . . . and just look how many of those you have. (insert wink)

“When you stop expecting people to be perfect, you can like them for who they are.”
~Donald Miller
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