Being an only child forces you to invent your world. First you’re living in a house with two adults, and so certain bits of childhood will go by with you listening almost exclusively to adult conversation. And hearing all these problems about the insurance and the rent, I’ve got nobody to turn to. But any only child will tell you that. You can’t grab hold of a sister or a brother. You go out and make friends, but playtime stops when the sun goes down. And then the other side of that, with no brothers or sisters and no immediate cousins in the area – I’ve got loads of extended family, but they weren’t there – was how to make friends and who to make friends with. It becomes a very important, a vital part of existance when you’re that age.

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But at the same time it makes you grow up. In that you’re basically exposed to the adult world unless you create your own. The imagination comes into play then, and also things to do by yourself. Like wanking.

 

K.Richards. Life