[ WP ] Most people can count themselves lucky if they get the chance to go on a single real adventure .

As far back as I can trace back through my my disjointed and broken memory, I ca n't remember more than two or three days in the same city. Sometimes I have these flashbacks where I will have some joyful but completely discrete memory in an unrecognizable place. It's like these moments that were drawn from American sitcoms that I've been superimposed into. This only happens with my happiest memories, and I never know where to place them, or even if I should recognize them as real. 
 
 My brain started to develop some interesting coping techniques and in retrospect, it's pretty incredible what I subconsciously told myself for so long. I suppose I just wanted some semblance of normalcy, but I did n't have any consistent gauge of what that even meant so my mind went haywire. My siblings had a lot more trouble. But they were older, too, which means a less hyperactive imaginations and a lot more grounding in the reality around them. Every time we left, my older brother would hold my hand and whisper that it was time for our next big adventure. I would listen, wide-eyed, as he spun stories about houses that sat among the clouds, playgrounds made entirely of halloween candy and ocean water so sweet you could drink it. Maybe it was my naivety but it made me feel like each time truly was an adventure, and I was an explorer taking on the world with my older brother and sister. 
 
 They tried to make some of this reality for me. I remember playing in the grass, even getting the occasional sweet -- but I also remember never feeling truly free. There was always someone watching over their shoulder and someone else with their eyes on me. This was between the bouts of the'playtime' I had been held captive for. I did n't even realize it had been abuse until a year after the police bust, and I had just turned thirteen. 
 
 I am lucky in that I do n't remember much. I do n't know why. I did n't remember anything until the court mandated that I attend therapy while I was put into my foster home. Through these sessions I started experiencing the worst night terrors and visions I've had in my life. I think I liked it better when I was just naive. Even after all this, I just want to be happy. I just want to be left alone, and live a normal life in one place. I still refuse to buy a home with a basement, and I will never let my children think that their world is anything different than it is. 
 
 Most people can count themselves lucky if they get the chance to go on a single real adventure. I can count myself lucky if I never have to go again.
