The various opinions of various acquaintances about me mean way too much to me, and that's something I hope to rid myself of eventually. Ironically, their opinions about me tend to be high.
Shit, maybe it isn't opinions that I care about at all...maybe it's just praise. I mean, people tell me I'm level-headed, kind, intelligent, a skilled writer, and yet I can't manage to make that matter to anyone except me. I don't want praise, I want acceptance.
For goodness sake, I want to be needed. That's so pathetic, but it makes so much sense when I think about it. Despite all of the "live for myself" crap that I feed myself 24/7, I really live for acceptance -- love, maybe. And that love -- true and undying love -- seems to be the thing that eludes me, more than anything else.
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