There is a story of a girl who didn't know and embraced it with what capacity she could.
If she expressed her un-knowing, people would often tell her their answer. Sometimes she would believe them; and for those times in her life, she discovered that when she eventually voiced her new knowings she would find that she was wrong -- or at least that there was more to be understood.
Sometimes she wouldn't believe them; often she would then be faced with harsh words or violent energy. She was then faced with greater un-knowing. This greater un-knowing was difficult to face.
She learned to believe everything with an open, shallow heart. She found if she smiled and agreed with all, she would be able to at least maybe learn something new and not have to face the ire of strangers. All were strangers to her.
She found that she trusted easily. And judged easily. And gave up easily. And loved easily. She followed easily. She wandered easily. She found all of these things, at other times, incredibly difficult.
She often lied about knowing things. She often created answers for things she didn't know the answers to, people found her right and wrong oftentimes. Mostly wrong.
She spent a lot of time wishing she knew everything that everybody else seemed to know. She wished she could feel what others felt. She wished she didn't spend so much time feeling afraid.
She didn't understand many things. She connected with many things.
She was a self-made run-away who escaped into books and games and adventures and fantasies. She dreamed almost every night.
One day she will never come back.
For now, I think she's still around somewhere. She lives like none are watching--and like an unconscious prophecy, is seen by nobody. But if your soul years for her, you'll eventually find her: wandering train tracks, collecting four-leaf clovers, befriending mockingbirds, becoming one with the moon.
I don't know if she is happy, and I don't think she knows either.