Built to Provide, Built to Please

Somebody asked you, what do you need? And your whole mind goes blank. Not because you don't need anything, because you spent so much of your life studying what everybody else needs, that the question sounds suspicious when it's pointed at you. You know who needs reassurance, who needs a ride, who needs forgiveness before they even asked for an apology. You can detect a move shift faster than some people can detect smoke, but ask you what you need? I'm good.

Whatever is easiest, don't worry about me, baby. That was not an answer. That was an evacuation plan. You left the question before anybody could stay long enough to hear the truth. You learned to read the room before you learned to read yourself. You became useful before you became known.

Maybe you called yourself mature, responsible, easy, independent, the one they never had to worry about. And it sounded like praise, because praise is often the first paycheck a survival role gives you. You were paid in approval and in hearing, I do not know what we would do without you. Nobody asked whether that sounded like love or a warning that you can never stop. Last time, we talked about the fall, the parked vehicle, the black hole between survival and becoming. But people do not fall out of nowhere.