This source is called a mystery.
Most kids my age suspected that they had been adopted. I only had to look at my oddball parents and idiot brother to be certain. Everything I loved, they either misunderstood or plain hated. My music, clothes, art, books, tofu.
Some kids dreamed of joining the circus. Others wanted to run off to Hollywood. I imagined that a group of traveling Buddhist monks would come to town, seek me out, and greet me in Chinese (which I would understand perfectly) and cart me of to Tibet where I'd live a long and happy life.