Why do I Write so much about My Perceptions of Myself? Because it's all I know, even vaguely

Today, I realized something crutial about my relations with people: they think I don't care what they think about me. Can I clarify this? I do. I hate it and I try to squash it down, snuff it out, light it on fire, dismember this desire to be accepted, but I can't. This realization came today after two completely unrelated instances. The first made me realize that my Transgression and Desire class probably thinks I'm certifiably crazy. So, I have this tendency to have dreams come true. Not the big crazy dreams, but the little ones without the bald men and the monkeys chasing me with knives. There wasn't lava in my basement, but there was a boy who asked me to sing a duet with him after I'd dreamed it the night before. (That was the first time it happened; it's happened since.) In Transgression today, we were talking about Freud's article on the Uncanny. I was a little unclear on what "the uncanny" was, so I gave that example, and because I put some stock in dreams, it is uncanny. I don't think this is weird now because it has been happening to me for so long, but I can see why I'm getting weird looks after talking about my fears of being crazy and not knowing it, and various other odd things I've said in that class. I don't think they realize I'm afraid of being crazy. Giving me looks like you think I'm crazy is not helping. So, I have dreams come true. They're pretty mundane dreams. It's normal, or so I hope. The other instance was me forced to scheme about a friend's relationship today. I don't like his partner, so in a big group of people, another friend who disapproves of the partnership and I walk off to which we were greeted with "oh, where are you both going off too?" I was a little uncomfortable with that, but when we got to where we were going, the people there called us on our scheming. I don't like to scheme, at least not like this. I remember watching Amalie with an old friend last year (has it been so long? ... forget him. focus.) and he mentioned that he loved how schemey Amelie was. At the time, I was like "yeah, I could never be that schemey," but I've come to realize, in light of recent events, that I could be that schemey; I just don't want to be. I have a mind to think of all the possibilities, or to come up with crazy ways of doing things, but I would rather be upfront with people. I think it relates back to my fears of people thinking I'm ... bad? No, if I'm going to scheme, I want to scheme like Amelie. I want to scheme to make people happy, but is one persons happiness only relative to the sadness of another? By making one person happy, am I thereby making another sad? "but then what kind of scale compares the weight of two beauties, the gravity of duties
or the ground speed of joy? tell me what kind of gauge can quantify elation? what kind of equation could i possibly employ?" (Ani's "School Night")I don't want to let anyone down; I want to keep everyone happy; I'm living in a suspended state waiting for the next judgement from someone I don't really know. (The big, bad voice in my head screams: He never judged you and he couldn't have loved you more and you let him go, you drove him away, you fucking twat. And I'll whisper back: yup, he sure did, but now I sleep and dream of men I see regularly who are out of my reach and I'm happier for it.) I wish I could toss aside the "happy, so long as you don't fuck with her" image but it's what I've become accustomed to, and the alternative seems worse. At least now I sometimes believe my image.