Maturity

I like to boast in my maturity and claim to be an adult, but most of the time that charade feels like it's going to fall apart. I enjoy being a kind and doing childish things and all of the joy it seems to bring. At least it brings joys to someone else because inside I just hate myself. In my heart of hearts I'm a child yearning from love, I need physical validation not some being up above. I act confident in myself, but it's really just another masked picked up off the shelf. My head is a sea of screaming, voices calling out "Look at me!" and "Somebody love me", and I can't escape the feeling. I pour myself out for everyone, yet in the end I'm left alone. Maturity set aside, I'm just a child crying inside.