I run away

I run away from all the people who find fault with me, who may care for me but only grudgingly, wishing I could be someone else, something better, do something more for them, and I cannot, and I run away. I go away, I do not want to be there. I'd rather be alone.
So, joy. I can have it. I can't necessarily share it. Fair enough.
So, A. cares for me, but she really does want so much more. Not a choice for her, but something she is a bit more compelled toward, against her best wishes. I don't want to the that object.