My Own Galatea

The Making:

My friend asked me to join the game. "I need the distraction. Please play with me," she said. I did as she asked. I got to create my own character. Oh, this is fun.
Two hours later and still I am not finished; it's just not quite right. My friend asks where I am. Still making my character, I respond. My friend laughs, and says, "I did the same thing."
After four hours, I am finished. I finally start the game. A week later, I am changing my character again. Her clothes are just not right. Two hours and twenty dollars later, she is how I want her. I start to play again.
Another week goes by, and I am still not happy. Her clothes are not right yet. Another three hours and another thirty dollars. Now she is right.
A month goes by. I can remake her, hence I do. Four hours and she is right. Another twenty dollars to make her mine.
The next day, I change her again. I edit her face, tilt her eyes, lengthen her hair, fill out her body. Another forty dollars gone.
The next day, I change her again. A slight edit here and there, and she is complete. I gaze upon her in awe. She haunts me.

The Obsession:

I return to my computer today to play the game, but I see her staring back at me. So perfect. I know her face, the tilt of her eyes, the curve of her body. She is so perfect. Before I know it, an hour has gone by, and I can do nothing but stare. I finally force myself away.
I sleep and I see her there, in my dreams; she comes to me. She sits beside me, and all I can do is look at her in wonder, my creation. How she haunts me.
As I awake, I hurry to my computer. I need to see her again. An hour goes by, then two, then three, and still I look at her. I know every line. I know her body better than my own. It is not enough just to look at her.
I take a copy of her to the printer. They print her out in a life-size cutout. I bring her home and place her next to my bed. I sit there and look at her, my creation. My Goddess.
I go to the store and buy the finest of silks, the best of clothes, the highest quality of make-up. The items I would not even buy for myself. It's only two hundred dollars. But it is for my creation, my Goddess.
I drape her in these garments, but they hang so poorly. What to do?
I search online and find what I want, a sculptor. I send him the picture, to make my creation. He sends me the price. What to do?
I sell all my jewelry, my paintings, my crystal, and the heirlooms my grandmother gave me to pay his price. I wait; I must have her. The days pass, and I pace. I cannot sleep I am so eager.
She has arrived. I place her beside my bed. The garments I bought before are no longer good enough.
I go to a store, a finer store. I pick out the best; she deserves the best. I apply for their card, and charge it to that.
I drape her in what I bought and gaze at her, my Goddess.
I fall asleep as I look at her, and she taunts me in my dreams. As I try to touch her, she runs away, forever out of my grasp. I startle awake, fearing she is gone. But my Goddess remains.
I return to the store to buy her the best again; she deserves it. I have no money for food or soap, but I can go without. My Goddess needs me.
I sit in the dark as my electricity has been turned off. I could not pay the bill as I had to worship my Goddess, my creation. All my furniture is gone; I sold it for her.
I sit in an empty room staring at her all day. I move closer to her and press my cheek against her cold marble hand. I close my eyes and pretend it is real.
I place a crown of golden leaves, pearls, and amethyst on her head. It is the best. She needed it.
I can't bear to be away from her; I must touch her every minute. I stay down by her feet. It is where I belong. Before and below my Goddess.
Weeks go by, and still I sit there. By my Goddess. I keep hearing knocks on the door. Someone demanding I open it. Some sound angry, some concerned. I ignore them; I cannot leave my Goddess.
I caress her cool marble body, a body I know better than my own. How I wish she would warm and wrap her arms around me as I wrap mine around her. My Goddess.
I scream out, I love you, as my body shudders in passion while I press myself against her. How I wish she would cry out as well. Once again, I hear someone pounding at the door. I curse them. How dare they interrupt our lovemaking?
I barely have the strength to hold up my head, but still I stay by her, my creation, my Goddess. I hold her hand in mine, rub my hollowed cheek upon it. I imagine it being flesh and blood. But it does not last.
Again I hear pounding on the door; angry voices demand I open it. They threaten me. I ignore them; they will go away if I ignore them, as they have in the past.
I am wrong. They pound on the door still, then they crash it in. They burst into the room. I still sit beside my Goddess.
They talk to me, but I do not understand. I cling to my Goddess's hand. She will save me; she will become flesh and blood and save me.
They grab me and try to pull me away. Though I am now just skin and bone, I resist. I jerk away and try to run back to my Goddess.
They grab me again, try to hold me down. I scream and howl like an animal. I cannot leave her; they cannot take me away. I must remain here.
One final time, I pull away. I throw myself at my Goddess; I aim just right. Her hand goes through my chest to the heart she stole long ago.
As I fall back, and my breath rattles, I see she now has flesh and blood. My Creation is alive; my Goddess is real. I am filled with joy as my vision goes black; her face is the last thing I see. A face I know better than my own.

The End:

They weep and they cry; none but one understands. My friend, she cries but a single tear.
My friend places her upon my grave, along with a plaque bearing my name. I am forever with her, my creation, my Goddess.
My friend returns to her home; she sighs and walks to her bedroom door. She pauses, then opens the door. Walking in, she looks upon the face she knows better than her own. She kneels at her feet, grasping her cold marble hand, and whispers softly, '"My Goddess."