Here But Nonexistant

Well it's another sleepless night for me and I had somethings running through my mind so why not put it on here. I love to read and sometimes it's easier for me to get lost in a story then live in reality. I have so many dreams that I know won't come true because I'm either to scared to try or I don't think I'm good enough. Sometime in my past people put so much doubt inside of me about who I am that I got confused and lost and I can't find my way back to me. So I live inside the stories I read. I laugh, cry, get angry, yell, look in disbelief like someone is actually paying attention to what I am trying to convey lol. I remember when I was a little girl I was always realistic about what I was gonna be when I grew up. I had secret dreams but somewhere deep inside of myself I knew I wouldn't have the courage to strive towards them. It makes me sad that I let other people define me. The most common definition is wierd or goofy or different. I don't know what in my personality makes me so much different than anyone else. I am just me, a person with hopes and aspirations. So what is the point of my ramblings? I want to be free! I feel like my past and what people perceive of me is holding me down in my own prison and I can't dig under the bars and escape. I want to run away from my life. Is that even possible? I wish it were. Sometimes I think about going somewhere where no one knows me and just living not contacting anyone just disappearing. But that would be selfish wouldn't it. I have a nephew that still has to hear from his much loved tete. I have a brother that sometimes needs advice and love from a big sister who understands and doesn't judge him. My parents still need to hear from their only daughter to make sure she is still alive. But in my heart I know I am not living, I merely exist. Isn't that the saddest thing to take up space in a world and just be.