Of identity crises

You're not sure about yourself anymore.
But you hadn't realized it until someone pointed out how you've changed. Pointed out how the past you was like. It comes back to you and suddenly you are painfully aware that something has changed big time. You've constantly changed over the year. You re-decide something every other day. You change your mind a lot and the burden keeps on becoming heavier.
The tears start to prickle in your eyes just because of three statements somebody has made. You try to figure out what is wrong. Where you went wrong. You compare the two of you and you can vaguely tell what is wrong, what has changed.
You plunge deeper into the matter the next morning. Your power source.You used to have something you could draw your strength on, something you occupied your mind with when trouble started growing over your head or something just to pass the time. You have countless of dialogues, scenes and scribblings to prove it as well. But now you don't anymore.
 You've blocked off your source, making it much easier for negative thoughts to invade your mind and much harder to distance yourself from reality. Anyone would wonder why one would do that. It makes no sense.
 If it keeps you happy then why cut it off?
Why keep away from it deliberately?
But you know the answer. Have known ever since you shut it out of your consciousness. You are afraid  of mixing up reality with it. You didn't use to have a problem like that. But now, when everything is possible, you have thrown your power source away because of your fear of getting hurt.
You don't want to get hurt.
Yet, by discarding your very existence, your most precious part of your life, the essence which makes you a hopeless dreamer, you have set yourself a trap.
You're changing. For the worse.
So what will the choice be?
Discarding the 'you' you have grown fond of over the years or let yourself get hurt constantly, because you are too hopeful? There is always a chance that you are only imagining it, changing that is. There is also the chance that you might grow numb enough one day, numb enough to accept that your dreams and hopes might never be fulfilled, that the fairy tail you have weaved together yourself will never get true, yet find the ability to draw happiness from it?
Fictional characters worked that way for you. They're unreachable, yet you don't mind it at all.