it's all about want. wants masquerade as needs. needs are necessary. was this?

"oh i need this" - natalie merchant

"i don't need this" - reel big fish

Take a look at my body
Look at my hands
There's so much here that I don't understand

my palms are empty. this doesn't belong with me. this doesn't belong with me. this is beyond my knowledge. i do my best, but the home of these secrets is elsewhere.
they can't trust me. why do they trust me? why do they trust becca? of all people?
becca overdramatizes things. she writes them, disguises them, just for the sake of talking. she can't hide grim smiles. she almost takes pleasure in this. she can't hide her sense of irony. three years ago....

but this time is different. this time they know eachother. this time there is no insane asylum grin plastered onto the faces of the spectators. no witch posing as a philanthropist. except for myself, of course. why did i let myself listen to him? i listen to him! i have this terrible addiction to being there for people. and even when it hurts, i hold back criticism. especially for those i am afraid of. for those i can't take seriously. this is what i did.

and now he trusts me. "i trust you like crazy" his exact words.
so this is it. the big joke. sure, i trust him too. but i am not worth this. it feels like it doesn't matter enough to me. it does matter, but not enough. and on top of that, such responsibility doesn't fit me. knowing simply weighs down on me.
what am i supposed to do?
is it my duty to shut up, is it my duty to speak out?
this is my fault. i listened. i made them trust me.
i was shocked. i felt bitter. he places so much in my hands. i never asked for this. but i am so glad that i know. i still want him to talk to me. i hid my misgivings for myself, breathing comfort instead. 'everything will be okay,' the words were dry to their fingertips. lies. face-saving promises, whispered like prayers. he needed them. there's need again. you find it anywhere. it seems to come from nothing. they needed something. [the romantic wackjobs] needed something too. she wound up behind bars, he wound up with manacles.
i promised not to tell anyone. he trusts me like crazy. i'm telling you. you know, don't you? i give too much away in an attempt to sort out my problems.
but as i've said before, what is 'right'? who has the right, and where is the fine line? it is such a fine line. i believe in wrong. i think they're stupid. i think everyone is stupid though. those two had been added to my list long before the darkness, the sweetness, the sadness, the weakness. oh what have you done.... this is so muddled. nobody suspects. do they? i didn't. i stand on solid ground for them, because they feed off of my lies. i have got to stop lying. but i also have to hold my tongue. if i'd attempted to tell him to think about it, i would have fallen from this makeshift throne. wouldn't i have?
i remember our runaway girl riding in the car. miles away from her home, rescued by his friends. she seemed stunned. i didn't hear her talk. i heard the other side of the conversation. i was in the room with my sister - their counselor. i sat stonily listening, trying to grasp the entire conversation from the half i could hear. my sister paced back and forth. they trusted her. "think, just think" she said, exasperated. she was worried. she could handle it though. she could handle anything. the lost one on the other side of the phone was not capable of thought, especially at that moment. the last words meredith spoke into the telephone that day were said with a tiny quake to her voice. as if she had given up. "okay." she said, "just be careful."
by trusting meredith, the two had dragged her into this. the girl's mother called frantically, almost threateningly, whenever her daughter was missing. meredith was always certain of where she was. how tied up for a seventeen year old girl, right?
well, it's happening again. but me, irresponsible, overdramatic, unrealistic me. i am in the midst of it, without my sister, without anything standing around me to hold me up. bound to silence. guilt's heavy hands have rested on my shoulders. this will not turn out well. contempt loves the silence, it thrives in the dark. i should take a page out of her book, see what i should say, what i should do. what is really here. there should be a name for this. they say that promises sweeten the blow... i need them.
need, need, need. did you need to do that? you need to know what will happen. do you need this? the rest of them are in the dark, is that needed? how much do you really need this? is it worth it? the majority of people regret.

what do i need? a lullaby, a kiss goodnight, angel, sweet love of my life.
no, i don't.
i am torn between reveling in the fact that i am trusted, and hating myself for being so wrong for this.
i've shut my mouth, held my breath.

nothing left to say, just time to wait out. i'm 100% sure that this won't end well.. they have to know that. have to have known that. read a book.

now for me.. i want pain. a bad sign.