At 40, I am convinced that we cosplay as adult characters to hide our inner child, mostly from ourselves. Some seem to allow the stresses of life and responsibilities to make the mask indistinguishable, but I doubt any truly make it real. Do you wear the mask of age over the eyes of your inner child? Does age hold a meaningful value to you beyond the comradery of shared experience?
My child self was a bumbling idiot who I would dislike or be indifferent to if I met them. Gradually over the course of decades I have become vaguely competent and capable of not making an idiot of myself daily. I’ll probably feel the same about present me later.