it's humiliating to want things.

whether my own personal version of this neurosis extends to all things or just to people i cannot be entirely certain.

nonetheless, i can imagine myself in some african bazaar or third world market, three days without water, searching as vendors would rush to crowd me with expectations; sweeping insensitivity they elbow me with ultimatums and second-guess my responses, mocking my fragile desire and forcing me to turn away. my back to the bazaar, my eyes firmly planted on the desert i continue on, leaving behind that which i most crave and most sorely need, martyring myself for my own neuroses.

why? how did this happen? when did it begin and why? when does it end?

and does it?