Childish

I fear I am a child with her criss-cross ice cream cone splattered on the ground before her new glittery glow shoes-

I may have been a body for over twenty years, but I have only felt like a mind for minutes at a time.

My age may qualify me for the title of “adult” but my reactive responses say “tween”.

My boobs may indicate maturity but my giggles during sex scream juvenile.

I have a government issued license that legalizes my intake of harmful substances but my choice of Juice boxes and Mac n cheese recognizes my humanity.

I take baby steps instead of strides, grab the blanket instead the bat when darkness finds me, I wish for my parents hug more than anything, and I don’t understand what means.

I fear I am a child with her criss-cross ice cream cone splattered on the ground before her new glittery glow shoes, but I am not the only one.