How to live?

I don't quiet need a fortune teller

But wish I knew the future is better

Why do I feel a stab of being guilty?

Whenever I get to be just a bit happy

I handle things immaturely, I know

And I might still, even though I grow

Don't tell me, my feelings aren't real

It's real to me, I don't fit to the ideal

I'm aware I've done mistakes before

But those against myself hurts more

I never learnt how to live, it's sad

And now I'm afraid of exactly that