Am I a ghost

Am I a ghost. I swerve in and out of people as though I were. Yet it is different, it is as though all around notice me, but you. To them
I am an angel, a smiley face they can glance upon with admiration, yet you still see nothing. Am I a fool. I laugh and talk like others do, but still it seems as though my words do not interest you, perhaps they are hollow to your reality. Am I a hag.  Yet others bestow glances of affection, how then do you not notice me drifting into the surroundings. Even a hag would gain more attention than I. Am I a memory. Perhaps your mind avoids me at pain of recognition, the mere sight of me too painful to entail. Who am I? The ignorance of your manner tells me I am no-one, yet I feel life and energy. I feel myself yearning for you, wanting your glance. I am alive. So who am I? I see my face grinning at you, my smile from cheek to cheek, maxed at full capacity. Who am I? I see my prescience casting affinity on those around, the calmness to my nature reminding them of likeness. So who am I? I am a girl, caught in the maps of affection, loosing her mind and self in hopeless love. I want to be you, un-faltered by critique.