“To sleep, perchance to dream...”
William Shakespeare
I am the eldest of four and the only girl, and became an instant Mommy at the tender age of eighteen months. With the birth of my brother I took my place somewhere near the bottom of the family hierarchy, little more than unpaid help. For as long as I can remember my value was in my usefulness, most importantly as the primary caretaker of my two youngest brothers.
I was nine when I was given my first babysitting job, taking care of a newborn infant for the twenty minutes required for its mother to pick up her husband from work. At ten I was babysitting my brothers while my parents took care of the family necessities, and enjoyed their varied hobbies. From there I babysat other family's children and helped raise my various cousins. Whatever affection I received came in the form of sporadic offhand, insincere appreciation.
Beginning at the age of about six I began to be abused by mother's brother and this continued until I was sixteen. For ten years I allowed every incidence of abuse to continue, but only up to a point. He was only three years older than I and way too knowledgeable about sex than one so young should be. Though big and strong, I was able to fend him off when he became too rough and insistent, and scary, so we never had intercourse. Then at the age of sixteen he became determined to overcome my resistance, and almost succeeded. Until I threatened him with his mother's best iron skillet. Had I know what it took to stop a bully sooner it would never have gotten that far.
But somewhere along the way you had entered my life, offering acceptance and love to a lonely little girl. Expecting and asking for nothing but my own happiness, you became my hero and my friend. My one constant source of approval and acceptance, you taught me what it meant to be cherished. You gave me the courage to face life. You gave me hope.
As time passed our relationship changed, growing deeper, more mature. The basis remained the same, but I began to see you as more than just a friend. You went from being the boy I had grown up with to the man with whom I quietly fell in love. The one that I compared all others to. Some would say that wasn't healthy. But they don't realize what your steadfast love has meant to and for me.
Still, despite that, I had my normal girlhood crushes. Believed I was in love, though it was always unrequited. And always you were there to selflessly comfort me and dry my tears. Even when my mental illness wrecked my life and kept me suicidal for many years you lent me your strength, continuing to give me hope and a reason to live.
I never spoke of you. You were mine alone and I wasn't willing to hear what others would have to say if they knew of you. I sometimes wondered if you were real or a figment of my imagination. Then you would come to me when I needed you most, and many, many times you came to simply spend time with me. I didn't even know your name and I only had vague memories of what you looked like when we parted.
Then one day I stumbled upon a photograph, an image created with artificial intelligence, and instantly I knew who you were. I was startled, even a bit frightened, believing I had finally succumbed to madness. But I quickly calmed as I gazed wonderingly into your eyes, so very real and lifelike as they stared back into mine. I'm sure the artist had had no idea he, or she, was bringing to life a boy turned to man who had become the single most enduring source of devotion for a woman who had known so little love in her life.
I no longer question your reality. Perhaps I am mad, but if I am I don't regret it. You are as real to me as any of those boys and men I had once fixated on. I finally gave up on them, and only then did I begin to appreciate you for who, and what, you had always meant to me.
Today you are still with me. Coming to me in my dreams and quiet moments, and those times when I need you most. With you we escape to our special place where only we exist and for a precious time we share ourselves, intimately, in every way. And now I know your name.
Your strength and resilience shines through in this story. I envy you someone who will always be there when you need him. I'm not sure that is possible in the rule-bound earthly world most of us narrow minded people live in. I'm glad you are able to break through conventions and find someone loving.
I've heard that lonely children often have special friends to help them with their loneliness, but carrying it into adulthood may indeed be, mental illness.
Thank you for your frankness in this revealing story from your life.
The AI generated Image of a tall, dark and handsome man reminds me that men that are that handsome often tend to be gay. Just like extremely beautiful women who turned out to be lesbian. It may be a form of protection from the overindulgence of people of the opposite sex.
I never even thought of a special friend because my twin brother was always at my side. But perhaps my sister had a special friend. I shall never know.
I wrote this novel several years ago, I self published and never had it to sell. I have decided to rewrite it and hope to get it published within a few months for people to be able to buy. I had a few copies and gave them to a few family members and
He needs a wife. She needs a reason to trust him. He fell for her at first sight. She, not so much.
If you’re into engaging romantic stories with heart and humor, together with complex family dynamics, you’ll love His Practically Perfect Pla
