fromjunia

My poor, lost guardian angel. She has no greater goal in life than to protect me, but she only hurts me. What a sad existence! Confused and misguided, she doesn’t understand why I put a distance between us. She exists only for my good. She mourns the distance.

My poor, hurt guardian angel. How could she not be mad? How could she not be confused? I was on her side, and then I wasn’t. How could she not be sad? I ignore her and feel misery and pain. I prove her point daily.

My poor, godless guardian angel. She wants to be my seraphim, singing my praises. Why would I turn that down, that glory of deification? She wants that for me, and I, incredibly, refuse it. I am unbelievable. To turn down godhood is insane. I am insane for ignoring her. She was assigned to a madwoman. What a horrible fate for her and for me.

My poor, chained guardian angel. Shackled and pleading, she begs to help me. She doesn’t understand why she is restrained. She only ever wanted to help. Why don’t I appreciate her? Why don’t I let her help?

Why don’t I love her?

I think I’m learning to, just not in the way she’d like. She works so hard to keep me safe, and I appreciate that. But she’s lost. I can’t follow her anymore. And that hurts so bad, because she’s been so loyal and, in truth, pure-hearted. Not pure good, but pure. Clean, in a way. Simple. No one else is so honest.

My heart hurts for my poor, sad guardian angel.