When I was eleven, I went to my first summer camp

on

Camp was really going to test me. It had been six years since my last camp,
this was the first time it would be on my own and I didn’t know what to expect,
but my Nana was going, so I wasn’t going to lose her for the first time. I
wanted her to like me, so I was determined to do this and be happy about it.
Now that I was eleven, my love for my Nana was the strongest there is. She
always gave me what I wanted, no matter how much it hurt her. She would say
things like, “You are such a softie, you must be really good in bed” or
“You are so sweet, you need a man that loves that tenderness in you”. I
wasn’t. I needed my Nana more than anyone in the world. She was the most
perfect, the most beautiful and the most understanding person I could ever
meet, but she never told me anything, and that was my only consolation. She
didn’t have a single friend in the world. All of her friends had died and she
was alone. I thought that she would be at least a little comfort to me. I
believed that she would love me and be able to understand me. I never told
her because all I wanted was for her to love me, to be my own best friend
and to give me a family. But she never listened and always said that it was
because I had never had a family, and she was only too happy to help me. She
never told me this, but she always thought that I wasn’t good enough, that I
didn’t deserve it, because my family had never loved her enough.

I had always prayed that she would die of a heart attack, or get cancer,
but she never had any of those, and she never complained of anything. One
time, while I was sleeping, my Nana died. Her death crushed me so much.
After that incident, she became distant and she stopped being my best friend.
Whenever I talked to her I felt a cold wall around me preventing me from
asking her any questions. I never knew what was going on and never knew what
she felt, but I knew that she didn’t have any friends. She was the only person
I trusted with my heart. But I never thought for a moment that I would ever
know her. I didn’t think I would ever kiss her, I never thought I would sleep
with her and when I did, I knew what she felt. I was so scared and so
depressed. Everything was gone, except her. I cried my eyes out, I cried
about the fact that we never had sex and that we would always be apart. I
didn’t know who I was anymore, I didn’t believe that I could ever feel her
emotion. I remember waking up every day with no idea of how I got from
morning to evening. I remember the feeling of my world falling away and that
it was only for her. Then one day, I received a letter from her. Her
handwriting was different from the other letters I had received her, but I
read it anyway. It was simply a “Hey honey” and a promise that she loved me
and that she was going to be with me forever. It had not been a declaration of
affection, this was a promise, and she meant it. I never forgot this and one
day I was determined to make her see that I was indeed a good man. I was
willing to go to the end of the earth, and if that meant sacrificing my pride
and being with her for the rest of my life. I was willing to die for her and
I was willing to lose everything else in life just to be with her.

I had been living in the city for over six months now and all I had
was her. I had no job, no money and no friends. I had the worst case of
depression imaginable. I didn’t know what to do and I was sure that the only
thing I would ever do in my whole life would be to kiss her and to fall apart
in front of her. But I was tired of living a lie. I had to find out who I was
and I had to fight to make sure that my friends and family would know. I
needed to be happy and I needed to be normal. After six months of her, her
voice in my head was so loud that it didn’t matter who was listening
it didn’t matter if I was sleeping or doing homework. I knew that I needed
to be with her. I had to go. I had no choice. I never had a choice; I was
always going to be with her.

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