When you start giving away your possessions, throwing away the junk, and losing nearly everything else but your mind and your breath, you start to understand what you really need to live, and what you can live without.
After I moved to Queens, having put most of what remained in storage, I realized I actually need more than two plates. (I have three now.) I can survive on two bowls, but I need a wine glass.
I need pedicures.
I need to get my hair done. I am vain and spent years tortured by the boyish haircuts my mother inflicted on my sister and me.
I need love.
I need a dollar.
I need to write.
I need to document.
I need to be alone.
I need attention.
I need to hold something while I sleep.
I need to dream.
I need to drive.
After years held captive as a child shut-in by an agoraphobic mother, I need to be outdoors.
I need to move.
I need to travel.
I need rules to break.
I need to celebrate.
I need praise.
And right now, in order to keep getting what I need, most of all I need a miracle.
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