My Angel
By Shuichi Uesugi
A lot of people seem to think angels have wings and halos. Those people couldn't be more wrong if they tried. Well, they're wrong when it comes to my angel. My angel is anything but stereotypical. Yes, he does have the golden hair all angels are suppose to have, but that is where the similarities end. There are no wings for him, even though they'd probably look really good on him. If he has a halo, he's been hiding it from me and it's probably pretty tarnished. No, my angel is not perfect, but that has never bothered me. His faults make me love him even more. Before I confuse people further, I should probably describe my angel.
He has some of the worst habits in the whole world. He smokes a lot. I'd say he goes through about two packs everyday. There is no way that's healthy. He drinks a lot too; at least a six-pack a day. He has cut down quite a bit since I met him. It used to be a whole lot more. The last little thing about him is his sleeping patterns. He sits at his computer desk for days at a time, working, only to end up collapsing from complete exhaustion and sleeping for a full day or two to make up for all the sleep he's lost. After hearing this description of my angel, you're probably asked yourself, "How can he call this horribly flawed person an angel?"
Well, for me, it is, by far, the easiest thing in the world to do. Sure, he has a tendency to be really cranky, and he has been known to yell, and on occasion, he has kicked me out, but that doesn't matter to me. When it really counts, he's there for me in a flash, defending me. He is my angel because he loves me for who I am; loves me despite all of my faults. I wouldn't trade my angel for anyone in the world, because I love him more than life itself and there is no way I would be where I am if he wasn't with me.