Ever Since I Was A Little Girl I Knew I Wanted To Be A Recluse

Twenty years on, I realise I was completely right

I used to run away a lot. Not far—never far. On our three acre property in south-east Queensland I would run and hide in my tree houses, or, as I grew older and more confident, down the streets surrounding my home where I could sit.

Alone.

Uncontactable.

Undisturbed.

I must have been about 13 when I would go for extended periods of time, lying to my parents about going for a run after school to clear my head. Well, it was more of a fib than a lie—I would run, but only for about ten minutes to my sacred spot.