I am constantly reminded that I have very little to say that is "deep."

My ruminations are far from insightful.

It takes a brave person to open themselves up on the internet (either that, or blissfully assured that no one reads their blog postings). This past weekend was both eye-opening and a return to my previous (unthinking) comfort of home. Jen visited from Nebraska, and she was exactly the presence I needed to realize that:

1) I have yet to make any truly full relationships here. Friendships, yes, but they're still at the phase in which we're all trying to figure out where we stand with everyone else in the group--an uncomfortable and mostly awkward dance in which we all step on one another's toes.
2) As a result, I tend to flounder and grasp at the people I've been spending time with, in hope that something deeper will emerge. This includes saying altogether too much about my life than I ever, ever would, had I a trusted outlet like Jen around all the time.

There's a sense of loss involved, too. For the first time in four years (and possibly my whole life), I don't have any kind of nearby emotional/physical backup. My godparents were about 20 minutes away from VU, and prior to that was California. So I'm that young, huh?

Is it common to find that you care more for someone's opinion and goodwill than they seem to care for yours? (Not at all in a romantic sense, in this case.) When you think that you have a decent emotional connection with someone, but then they say or do things that cause you to realize that they really don't think twice about you?
Or when you're being completely honest, but they think you're lying or trying to hide your insecurities?

I don't know whether it's a weakness to care for someone, but not have the feeling reciprocated. To have genuine concern for someone's well-being, when they don't seem to notice or feel any concern for you. I don't think it is, so long as you don't allow yourself to develop concrete expectations about the direction you'll go. For someone who relies on constant reassurance from other people, it's a hard blow. But maybe it's this willingness to open oneself to rejection, failure, or being unnoticed that makes us most human. I'd certainly like to think so.