Dangerous Question

I find the most difficult, and dangerous question, is "why?".
Why do I wake up?
Why do I sleep?
Why do I even smile?
Why do I be?
Why do I think I matter at all to people? Because of gifts? because of help? Why?

I'd like to mean something. I'd like to not be such a dissapointment. I'd like to wake up and feel like I have lived for something, or someone. When in fact, I have nothing.
I do not have trust in possibly fictional beings to take me to a judgemental plate after my flesh is gone. I do not have stability in life or in mind. I do not have what one might want the most.
And what's better, is that I cannot seemingly do anything about it. I want stability? Can't have a job. Can't maintain enough health to even go to college. Can't take a step without it being in my perfect sisters shadow.
I have nothing to live for, and nothing to live from. So why do I breathe? To merely be a disposable tool to help those who wish to use me to their extent? That's so...well I guess I can be pompous/arrogant to say that I'd wish it was a little more.
I'd like to be more than a tool to shove into a darkened shed when they've hhad enough use of me. But I guess I cannot have that.
I just... wonder why should I really wake up?