Aw, BlessFrom the moment we're born to the moment we die we seek reassurance in almost everything we do. The entire facade of our existence is a way of reassuring us against the loneliness of rejection and eventual obliviion. We want smiles, cuddles, laughs or emoticons that understand us. We want to be heard in a way that validates our experience.
I spent years not caring about reassurance. I let my personal hygiene slip, I cut my own hair, I slacked and slobbed, I spat on the ground as shocked mothers covered their children's eyes at my passing. In me though there's a voice telling me I'm right, that this is the only true way to avoid hypocrisy and mendacity. If others can't reassure us we reassure ourselves.
Don't get me wrong. I'm not pretending that my self-reassurance is a good thing. Self-reassurance can be prone to madness. I've done some weird things in the hope of self-justification.
But, thankfully, I've always managed to avoid the thought that if no-one else will reassure me, at least god will.