Where do I turn to?

I am no longer a child,
Yet not quite an adult.
But you put these burdens
For me alone to carry
Upon this aching back.
I cannot deal with these things
As though I am mature
The intensity of it all is too much
To handle
For someone still so immature.

You expect things handed to you
And a giant silver plate.
Glamour comes naturally to you
Yet I am forced to wait
On you hand and foot...

I can't be an agony aunt to the world
If no one is there to listen to me
What about my problems
Where do I turn to?