Faith.
Such an odd name for someone who no one has any faith
in. No one, that is, except for him.
Angel.
My Angel. He saved me from myself. He was the only one
who understood me. The only one who cared. The only
one that believed that there was any good in me.
I never deserved him. I have tried so hard to be good.
I did everything in my power to make him proud. He
matters so much to me. He is all I have. He is the
reason that I am still alive. He is my guardian angel.
He gave me a second chance when no one else would. He
offered words of comfort when no one else cared. He
forgave me time after time for all the bad that I had
done. He shared stories with me of his past and all of
the bad that he caused so that I wouldn't feel so
alone.
I gave up my freedom for him. I didn't have to, but I
did.
He always knew exactly what to say. He always made me
feel at peace.
We are almost exactly the same. Fighting for our
second chance. We are both filled with an evil that
is hard to contain.
He understands me in ways that nobody else does. He
can see through me like glass, which is in some way
comforting to me. I don't have to put up a front for
him. He knows that I'm scared, lost, and confused. He
knows that I am lonely.
But maybe he didn't really care.
His visits became more and more spaced apart. I would
just sit in my cell waiting. Waiting for him to come
and save me from the darkness that fills and surrounds
me while he is away.
And he would eventually come, only to leave soon
afterwards.
I haven't seen him in over a month. And the darkness
has completely engolfed me. I guess that he really
didn't care, just like everyone else that I have ever
met. I have no one.
I looked down at the knife in my hand. I had kept it
from when a cellmate had attacked me, thinking that I
was weak prey.
Without a second thought, I slid the metal over my
wrists and watched the blood flow.
I sat back on my bunk and waited. This time, a
different kind of darkness filled my senses.
And once again, I waited for an angel to come and save
me.
Such an odd name for someone who no one has any faith
in. No one, that is, except for him.
Angel.
My Angel. He saved me from myself. He was the only one
who understood me. The only one who cared. The only
one that believed that there was any good in me.
I never deserved him. I have tried so hard to be good.
I did everything in my power to make him proud. He
matters so much to me. He is all I have. He is the
reason that I am still alive. He is my guardian angel.
He gave me a second chance when no one else would. He
offered words of comfort when no one else cared. He
forgave me time after time for all the bad that I had
done. He shared stories with me of his past and all of
the bad that he caused so that I wouldn't feel so
alone.
I gave up my freedom for him. I didn't have to, but I
did.
He always knew exactly what to say. He always made me
feel at peace.
We are almost exactly the same. Fighting for our
second chance. We are both filled with an evil that
is hard to contain.
He understands me in ways that nobody else does. He
can see through me like glass, which is in some way
comforting to me. I don't have to put up a front for
him. He knows that I'm scared, lost, and confused. He
knows that I am lonely.
But maybe he didn't really care.
His visits became more and more spaced apart. I would
just sit in my cell waiting. Waiting for him to come
and save me from the darkness that fills and surrounds
me while he is away.
And he would eventually come, only to leave soon
afterwards.
I haven't seen him in over a month. And the darkness
has completely engolfed me. I guess that he really
didn't care, just like everyone else that I have ever
met. I have no one.
I looked down at the knife in my hand. I had kept it
from when a cellmate had attacked me, thinking that I
was weak prey.
Without a second thought, I slid the metal over my
wrists and watched the blood flow.
I sat back on my bunk and waited. This time, a
different kind of darkness filled my senses.
And once again, I waited for an angel to come and save
me.