I was never lonely.

 I was never lonely—no one ever thought to tell me about loneliness or the consequences; I lived in a universe of my own. Looking at the notes my parents made of me during my first five years, I must have been a very average child. 

The time came for me to commence school, the same problem prevailed. Just as I had entertained myself in the bush, I entertained myself in the schoolroom. I was seated at the back of a class and had no idea of why I was there. I was very placed and obedient; I did what I was told. A lady stood up in front of the class and rambled on about something. I was not the least interested and was never likely to be. 

This was a very intricate problem, and it was very personal. Naturally, I was not aware of it, and neither was anyone else. Looking back, I was never thoroughly counselled for the lifestyle I was to encounter. 

I don't blame my parents, nor do I bear any resentment. I understand the traumatic life they had endured; they were poorly educated due to the circumstances prevailing during their adolescent years. They had no concept of academic procedures or educational necessities.

Fortified by the knowledge that I have gained over time and observing my three adopted grandchildren, I am aware of the permanent societal maladjustment they suffer. 

Those initial years proved to be traumatic for some, but not for me. I learned nothing, cared about nothing or very little. My daydreaming was a joke for some, but on the whole, I was just left to myself. I had no friends, just lived in a world of my own. I was not stupid; I could take care of myself and learn what I needed. I had no toys or books like present-day children of the same age, it was wartime, and food was not much more plentiful.