Let me tell you a story.
Once upon a time there was a young woman who had a face, and did not live in secret. She had a home of her own, and she always thought that her life had some great purpose. “This is not my life as it should be,” she said, indicating her life as it was. “My life is different from this. This is not it at all!”
And so, she sought out changes in her life. She changed careers, and romantic relationships. She changed houses and hair colors and still, her life was not what she was sure it should be. She changed more; she became more secretive. She watched how other people lived. Maybe one of them have a life that should belong to her.
Soon, there was less and less of her. She was not living her own life, and so she was not living any life. It was harder and harder for people to see her, because there was less and less of her to see.
And then she died.