I remember the cookies my mom used to make me. She always made the best chocolate chip cookies in the entire world. Sometimes I used to help her make them. She showed me how to mix the ingredients and spoon them out, making perfect little mouths. I loved to lick the batter and eat the chocolate chips as we baked. I wore her apron one time.

I loved my mother. She was so pretty with her sleek black hair that fell to her shoulders. I loved the way her deep brown eyes that sparkled and were filled with such wisdom and love. She always kept her head up and her shoulders straight. Nothing could ever stand in her path. I decided that I wanted to be her. I didn't want to just embody her strength, I wanted to i be /i her.

My dad had left my mom and my older sister when I was four. I don't remember much about him except my mom and he yelled at each other a lot. Before he left, he gave me a pair of drumsticks. He told me to put them to good use and kissed the top of my head before walking out. Mom later told me that he used to be a drummer in a band and that's why the ended up splitting. Apparently the band meant more to him.

Mom said I used to run around the house banging on things with those drumsticks. My older sister stole them once and I cried for days until Mom found them for me. For my tenth birthday she bought me a drum set. I drove everyone crazy playing them day and night. I felt a special connection with them. I felt happy knowing that I had part of my dad's talent in me.

When I was eleven I remember watching my mom getting ready for a dinner party. I was amazed at how shiny and perfect her black hair looked as it fell down her bare, smooth shoulders. I loved the way her satin dress hugged her curves and how she managed to walk gracefully in her high shoes. I adored the way her eyelashes curled and how the pink lipstick glistened on her lips. Women were stunning creatures and I yearned to be one.

My mom would sometimes sing at a night club and she owned a few wigs. My favorite one was the shiny black bob that she wore the most. I pranced around my room wearing it one day along with my mom's fur coat.

"What are you doing?" my sister asked, her jaw dropping a little.

I blushed and quickly took off the wig. She smiled and walked over to me.

"If you're going to dress up you might as well do it right," she said, taking me into her room.

She sat me down at her vanity table and applied her makeup to me and fixed the wig. I gasped as I saw my reflection.

"You look like an angel," she smiled.

From that day on I insisted that everyone call me Angel. Sure I got weird looks and was called some pretty unfriendly names, but I didn't care. I was Angel and no one was going to mess with me! At least my mom and sister supported me and encouraged me to be who I was. I loved them dearly for it.

In my junior of high school I fell in love with a boy. His name was Eric. He had eyes the color of the ocean and dark hair that fell to his shoulders. All the girls lusted after him and would giggle whenever he walked past. I would blush whenever he would ask me questions about our English class.

One day after school I had a tutoring session with him. I remember feeling nervous and little butterflies fluttered around in my stomach whenever his arm would brush against mine.

"Angel?" he asked.

"Y…yeah?"

"You have a pretty name."

Then we kissed. I was flooded with these feelings I had never felt before. Eric and I dated until we graduated high school. Our moms insisted on taking ten thousand pictures of us together. He was headed off to a college somewhere in the mid west. I decided I want to head to New York City, the center of the universe.

My mom and sister provided me with some money to help get started.

"My Angel, I want you have this," my mom said, placing her black wig into my hands.

"Oh, mama, are you sure? It's your favorite," I said, tearing up as I held it in my grasp.

"I want you to have it baby, make mama proud of you and never let others get you down. Be strong, baby."

We kissed and I headed off to the big city. I met my lovely Mimi-chica there a few days later. She was a tiny tough girl of fifteen and I fell in love with her. She lived with me for awhile before getting a job at the Cat Scratch Club. I didn't think she should be working there, but it wasn't really my place to tell her that. I started seeing this guy named Daniel.

He liked my drumming and adored my outfits. We went out every night. Sex with his him was amazing. He made me feel special and happy. Then he infected me with HIV. It turns out that Daniel wasn't as faithful as I was and I made the stupid mistake of not making him wear a condom. I cried in Mimi's arms that night.

One night while I was drumming on the street, I met my Collins. He's the only one for me and I'm glad I found him. He makes me feel like the whole world is mine to take. And it really is.