I wrote this story for Creative Writing. Be forewarned, it is sad and teary.


When my teacher read this, she liked how "realistic" it was.

As soon as I got to Jacksonville, I pulled out the 10000000000000 page long story that I wrote in 8th grade... the one about Angel and Paul and love and fate. I read through all of it once, then went through one more time just to make sure I hadn't missed anything important. I think that was something entirely important to get over the past. Reliving it nearly brought me to tears, but it helped me come to terms with it.

Here, for your pleasure are my two favorite parts of the story.



The rest of the story is all about fights about drugs and him cheating on me. The are completely unnecessary to relive. In the original, Angel committed suicide, ending the story. Since, I wrote a new ending, one that shows Angel as whole, healed, and capable of loving again.

This transformation wouldn't have been possible without a few very important people. They know who they are.

Anywho, I found myself thinking this week "I haven't done this since Paul." I think I've finally gotten to a stable point. There is no more need for drastic measure. However, please keep the phone lines open, I am not looking forward to a possible relapse into self destructive behavior.

I'm not sure why, but I feel compelled to post this on here. There's not much background info in here, because there's a 300-page novel that's now in Mel's custody. Feel free to comment on it if you wish.
( Story time! )

And don't worry, it's a fictional story... which makes sense because it's set in the future, but whatever. No worries, I'm not planning on attempting any such feat in the near future.

She used to be an angel.
Now she flies with broken wings.
She knows too well the heart break
That devastation brings.

This fallen angel struggles
Each day to catch her breath.
She's still trying to recover from
The shock of his early death.

She used to be an angel
And one day will fly again.
Her wings one day will heal themselves.
She just doesn't know when.