The Difference

There's a difference between what people want and what they need.

It's not the difference a dictionary tells you--a need isn't just shelter and food and water. People don't all have the same uniform needs, because we're all different. No one is the same. Maybe they're similar, but they're not the same.

A prime example, the one I have in mind, leads straight to the source of it all: Death. They say you need things so as to avoid death and continue on living. Medically they say you can't die of heartbreak, yet people have. You lose the will to live, to bother just staying alive, and nothing is worth it anymore. You're just a bunch of fragments now, the broken soul of a once perfectly whole person. Because, despite what people may say or think, you needed that other person to survive. You didn't just want them to be there, they had to be there or you couldn't be.

Sometimes what you need is to get away from something or someone. You don't just want them to go away; it is entirely necessary for your survival that you get away from them, and when you can't, you break. You try to hide away from them, but you just can't escape, and it's scary, because there's no way to be alone. Try as you might, they're always there. It's like torture, never-ending torture, and nothing feels the same, nothing that made you happy can make you happy anymore. You're frightened, you're broken, and there's no way out.

And other times what you need is clarity, explanation. Because now you don't know what to do, and you've come to the crossroads but have no idea what to choose. That can be even more terrifying, because making the wrong choice can kill you. And the enormity of the decision makes you want to curl up and sob, and just get away from the world, but you can't. There's no respite until you make the choice. So you live in that limbo until you're forced to choose, live as a half-entity, just struggling to make it through the day. Or maybe you can't endure the wait. That's when you choose quickly to get it over with, and spend that time regretting. Nothing feels right anymore.

But lastly there's the need to impress, to satisfy. People always want something from you, and it seems like you can never do it right. On the rare occasion you can, it consumes you and the only thing you can do is focus on doing what they want. You don't matter anymore; you're a tool to them. You bend to their will and do what they want because disappointing them is unthinkable. It's never about you because it's always about them, and you know that's how it has to be, because you look up to them and they want it that way. So you fall to the wayside and remain there, dissolving away into nothingness until you're a shadow of what you could have been.

Only, no matter which one fits you, you tell no one. It's a personal secret, evidence of your weakness, your vulnerability, your humanity. And you feel you can't let it show. So you don't, and it becomes the burden you bear on your shoulder until one day you can finally get rid of it. To you, telling a person means giving them a chance to hurt you, and you're already broken enough, ground to dust. It eats away at you from the inside, but society classifies it as a want, maybe something you really want, but it's still a want. To them, you don't need it to survive.

To you it draws the line between life and death.