The truth hurts and I don't own stock in Band-Aids or Xanax. If you're thinking good things about me, you'll tell me; and if you're not… why subject myself to torture?
It's Catch-22. We're not supposed to care what others think, right? But we do. Ultimately, we do. At least, I do. I know Jesus loves me in spite of knowing all there is to know about me, because he probably knows things about me that I don't and still keeps coming back. But would you? When I'm in a bad mood and am capable of thinking extremely catty and uncalled for thoughts about even the kindest person there is, would you keep coming back? I don't know if I could. Go back. After I know all the things about me that irritate you, or that make you think bad things about me, I tend to run and hide.
But if I could read minds that were totally devoid of all thought of me, then heck yeah! I'd do it.