Flesh and Blood needs Flesh and blood

I am stubborn. Really stubborn. I make a decision regardless of its weight and stick by it despite the ruins. I am not one to compromise or reason with. Winter is my favorite time of the year because the cold suits me. I am wrong a lot. I say mean wretched things and I displace praise. I can hold my own and have always been to proud admit otherwise. In other words, I don’t need nobody.
So when a somebody comes along and offers laundry, eggs scrambled (the only way I’ll eat them), coffee, fresh and dark (the only way I’ll drink it), and quiet, witty conversation (the way I prefer it) I am quick to decline it. So begins the discourse. First, I pick at it. I seek out indiscretions, mistakes, liabilities. I slowly and surely devour it. It is destructed and I, again, am alone. Because I don’t need nobody.
Or maybe I do.
Maybe, just maybe I can learn to live with the spoils of someone else. Maybe my pride can step down. Maybe it has to this time. Maybe I’ve no choice in the matter. Maybe it’s beyond me. Maybe Johnny Cash was right, “Flesh and blood needs flesh and blood, and you’re the one I need.”