Needs, Part One

"Unless you know your needs," my mentor says, "you can never surrender them to anyone."  It sounds so simple; and it is precisely what I am missing.  An accurate picture in my mind, translated into words, of what comprises my needs.  "I have needs," I say to myself almost every day, "and they aren't met."  But what are they?  I can't even speak them aloud, I am so blocked.  I am blinded by "haves" that I can't even begin to sift through them to see the "needs" that wait.  They used to wait patiently.  Now, they creep.  Unseen, but I can hear them.  They are in the walls.

A list of needs.  Unanalyzed.  Just jotted down.  I begin now.

I need passion.
I need romance.
I need to feel special.
I need clean air.
I need walls around me.
I need someone to tell me it will be okay.
I need someone to tell me that I do not know everything and that there are things in the world stronger, longer-lasting, larger, and more potent than I.
I need someone to prove it to me.
I need to feel what it's like to have someone slap me really hard, just once, just to see what it's like.
I need to feel what it's like to have someone throw me down to the floor, just once, just to see what it's like.
I need someone to take care of me, just once, just to see what it's like.
I need to be left alone more than I am because I need some space to breathe.
I need to start all over again.
I need help.
I need to be treated like an adult and not coddled.
I need to be shielded from the most unlikely people, people you'd think would be nice to me but are not.
I need to learn how to stop seeking shelter, eventually.
I need to feel like a real person.
I need to be able to say all this out loud.
I need to speak without stuttering, to stop being ashamed of my voice.
I need, at the moment, more than anything, to stop crying.