I know it is coming; if I don't stop this cycle everyday. And I realize this, but I don't want to stop. Is that the definition of an addict? Anyways...
I dreamed I was in heaven, floating on clouds. I was talking to someone whose face I could not see; maybe the One and Only, maybe another angel, maybe an ancestor long gone. I was finding out someone in my family was having a baby. It may have been my sister or it may have been my aunt. I don't remember.
I was to be the guardian angel of this infant. I could only hope I could save this child from what has claimed me.
And I was at peace with this: with my new duty, with my death, with where I was.
I'm not a sentimental person. I'll dog cuss you out then turn around and tell you I love you. I want to be closed up like the strings that bind my hands from being abled, but an open book. I want you to know how I feel, I want you to know I love you, but all that comes out is a string of angry words.
I'm not an angel, I never have been, but I can flirt with the idea. Just like I flirt with Death. I'm playing Russian Roulette with him and the bullets are in my hands. Maybe it was chance, or that my guardian angel is doing her job well. You just can't save what is already gone.
I can only learn from the best.