“I am an Angel” Fiction. Based on a True Discovery.

I wish you find the strength to stop looking back, to point your compass north, and love yourself.”

by Artemis

“I am an Angel”

Fiction. Based on a True Discovery.

by Jin

This journal entry is inspired by true events. Some of the characters, names, businesses, incidents, and certain locations and events have been fictionalized for dramatic purposes. Any similarity to the name, character or history of any person is entirely coincidental and unintentional.

Trigger Warning: our program often motivates people to discuss their trauma. If you find yourself feeling overwhelmed, please, take a step back to address emotional flashbacks and trauma before continuing to push yourself. If you are experiencing a medical emergency, call 911 or the National Suicide Hotline at (1-800) 273-8255.

I remember.

I’m wearing a blue tank top of very light, soft, athletic material and running tights and my grass-stained and yet still neon-blue tennis shoes. My hair is half up, no makeup, and I’m walking around with my iPod and my sunglasses because I can’t stand the noise. I live by running, but I’ve run myself to the ground—I’ve injured my ankle through repetitive stress. That is, through running one mile multiple times a day, every day, with no rest, because I felt if I could not do that, I could not survive. 

I’m feeling inexorably anxious, like a ball of black, writhing energy or some black hole. I’ve been feeling this way for a while, like everything is awful and I just want some hope

What did I say to my ex?

I don’t know when I will ever be happy again, or when I will feel joy, or when the bad shit will stop happening, or when you and I will be friends again and I can stop worrying that you hate me or don’t care . . . I don’t know when I will ever be happy again or if I ever will. I don’t know I don’t know I don’t know and I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry. Forgive me. I love you.

I tried to salvage my pride by entering in a little Ho’oponopono. And of course: no response. I am a rotting plant on the other side of a dirty pane of glass, covered by half-shut blinds where no one can see me. Sometimes the sun shines and dries my moldy dirt and feeds my withered leaves. One day I will crawl high enough to bask in it.

So here I am, in my athletic wear and unmade, probably sweaty face. Judge me, I dare you.

The tarot card reader asks me what I am looking for, and I tell her, I guess . . . I guess . . . I am in a period of intense change. I am in a transitional period of my life. And I guess I just want to know if there is hope for the future. (What I really want to say to her is, I want to know if I’ll ever be happy. If it is worth it to stick around and see if things will work out. If the bad shit will keep happening. )

She’s holding my hand, and her eyes are closed. She looks so calm, so peaceful, and it all feels ridiculous to me. I am trying to concentrate, but on what? I don’t know what to think about, so I look around nervously. And then she says . . . I am feeling that you are a very light, airy being. Very white and very, very pure. 


Maybe she was not finished or maybe she read this in my face because she then continued, I imagine that, being this way, you do not travel through this world unscathed. She goes on to tell me that I am not made for this world. All I can think is Angel . . . 

Someone told me once that we are all angels, and that God is love, the Universe is love, and we are all connected. We were sent down to the Earth to make it a better place, but when we got here, we forgot who we were, we lost touch with our angelic selves. We got stuck in unhealthy patterns and cycles, and it’s our journey to find our center again and in doing so, heal the Earth. 

I’m an angel. And so are you. It was here, with my hand resting lightly in hers, that a new image of myself was born, one that was not defined by darkness and chaos but light and spirit. That beautiful thing is still inside me, and it has been since that moment.

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