I'm sorry in advance

I worry, I really do.
Not until recently, probably March-ish, did I realize the hole I'd dug myself into.

I guess I should start a while back, get out the ol' word chronometer.

When I was a little kid, I loved to socialize. Everyone did. We all were friends.

As school moved on, everyone started to form into groups. There was no social hierarchy, there was just the forming of groups.

I didn't at first. Maybe I didn't realize, maybe I forgot. I think the most likely explanation is that I was still so caught up in my young mind, daydreaming at recess instead of gossiping.

You see, I was always the young one. Tall enough to look the correct age, yet always turning that age too late to be at the same mental level. I actually have my birthday in a few days, aheh, forgot to say anything.

So I never caught up.

A little later, although it's been a while, I actually got the memo, which was triggered by my only friend moving away. Again. This tends to happen, don't worry. It actually happened a lot when I was younger.

So I found a group. They were a sort of new clique, with a few new kids and a few acquaintances.

I left them a few months ago. They got mean.

And then it hit me.

My age isn't invisible anymore. It's become obvious. I'm a hermit. I don't hang out with people. I don't even like the things people my age do.

I've spent too much time around adults.

Every time a group of teenagers passes me, I feel disgusted. Their shrill laughs are horrible, and they never seem to stop drunkenly lounging around, then sprinting and vaulting off walls. They love clothes because certain brands are more expensive.

I am one, and I hate every minute of it. I just want to act like an adult! I don't like getting all rude, or laughing grossly, or procrastinating.

Adulthood will have its own problems, and that's another problem in itself.

With my siblings way older and my parents much too nice, I've grown up spoiled, soft. I can't handle anything.

That's what I am.

I'm not depressed. I don't have anxiety. No mental disorders hurt me.

My household is something to be grateful for, and I've never been actually bullied.

I'm the childish, young, soft kid.

I don't know what to do.

I try to express myself in writing, and drawing, and making characters, but all that does is teach me that unless you're an adult and/or tough, you can never actually make a good form of any of those.

I complain, as I'm doing right now, even though others have it so much worse than I do.

I just don't know what to do.

I'm sorry about that, I'm between rock and a hard place and I had no other ideas.