People say I need you but they are actually saying I want something from you. They can’t need the real you. The real you is locked up tight like a Matryoshka doll. By the time you finish peeling me your eyes will be burned out. It’s all about barter. I need a nail and you need a hammer. We exchange however we see fit. We make the rules and literature wraps it up in lofty idealism. Film and music blurs it even more and religion well you know how that goes. When the dust bows out I get to keep my enigma.