Old Skin

I often wonder if we are really adults. Are we, or are we just kids in these adult bodies, still haunted by the same things that bothered us as children, better able to cover it, but still hurt by it?

Are we any sharper, any smarter? Or are we simply able to hide it better? Same tears, same tantrums, same likes, jealousies, just clothed in older skin with a better expression? We aren't adults. We are just kids, in different bodies.