I woke up alone on an island, born into a room full of books.
Outside it was bright and calm, and the breeze kept me cool in the sun. A bit of exploring revealed a deep clear spring and a berry bush grove. So I ate and I drank and I read. And It felt good then - even if it were just in my mind - to be going someplace new and far away, and going there with somebody else.
I found myself interested in the subjects that seemed the most useful at the time: physics, engineering, optics, navigation, astronomy - carefully refining my list as the years wore on. So when at last the volcano erupted and scorched my home, I was able to get away, and so arrive on the shores of this world.
But only then, walking among everyone else, did I know the problems and the pain of this life. And I wondered why I had ever wanted to learn. And I wondered whether I was blessed or cursed. And I wondered what 'useful' meant.