“It’s when the angel finally falls that everyone asks,
‘What the hell do we do now?’”
That’s what Ayisha said to me 20 or so minutes ago and my mouth is still hanging open.
For I’m happy all the time! Perky! Empathetic! Sass galore! Quippy! Always kind and always on time! I pick up your calls on the second ring! Energetic! Upbeat! I skip across the road every time cross apparently and giggle whilst being chased by the guy from the Texas Chainsaw Massacre. And then apologise profusely as my blood has stained his ornate garments.
That’s how everyone seems to see me.
But I’m not.
I’m miserable. I’m so incredibly burnt out and I have panic attacks on a frequent basis. I’m on the brink of snapping and I suppress it all by going to sleep and hoping I forget about it.
But it’s comforting for you to feel like there’s a perfect little angel, constantly happy and consistently ready to serve you, on the side who you can use as a punching bag,
Because you know I’ll bake you brownies after anyways.
So you’re shocked when I take a break,
Because I’m supposed to be the pinnacle of productivity. Good grades! High marks every single time! Carry the weight of being the golden child because, well, someone has to!
You’re taken aback when I don’t adorn you with gushy pet names or send you metres of love messages every morning or set 40 minutes aside to hear about your boring day or dumb boy/emo drama because an angel is inherently a trained psychologist! I’ve made you feel entitled to my time, my love and my affection. When you truly deserve nothing.
You’re appalled if I set a boundary. If I say, ‘you hurt me,’ or ‘leave me alone.’ Because a good angel takes it, no matter how much it hurts. She doesn’t scream or squirm. She sits in silence with a gentle smile and nods as you talk at her. Step all over me! I don’t have feelings! Stomp! Slap! Slam!
And you’re offended when I dare venture into the realms of low-necked crop tops,
Because a good angel does not dare explore her sexuality or show off her assets! I am supposed to be a genderless eternal virgin who apontaneously combustsat the very sensation of a male gaze. Baggy tops! Figureless pants! And hands permanently screwed into a prayer position!
You project a weird idealised version of yourself that you wish you were onto me, because you know I love you enough to be your performing pet monkey.
And this weight of beyond unrealistic expectations of crispy perfection and angelhood is being thrust on to my shoulders by people I had very wrongly decided cared about me.
They don’t care about me.
They care about this imagined and idealised version of me.
They care about how I can best serve them.
They care about whether I can soothe them just right, or stroke their ego well enough to hit the spot or carry their baggage efficiently and effectively,
But god no, they do not care about me.
I’m not qualified to save anyone, I’ve only figured out shoelaces like a year ago. But it feels that most of the people in my life have gotten extremely comfortable in my plushy reliability and my vanilla and cinnamon-scented loyalty. They’ve let their hair down, gotten into their trackie dacks, lit a Christmas addition gingerbread candle and
Sunk their leech-like teeth deep within my tired flesh
And are taking long and heavy gulps of what little I have left.
After some deep reflecting and sizzling questions from Ayisha, I’ve realised most of my life is lived in obligation.
I don’t care if I’m a good friend.
Nor a good daughter, sister nor student.
I don’t want to serve you anymore nor live up to your fetishising expectations.
I am extremely imperfect, living extra sinfully and do not, quite frankly, care about your approval nor acceptance.
For it was Lucifer himself who dared to think critically and question those who were supposedly the personification of the highest good,
And was kicked out of the too well-lit wasteland of ‘heaven’ to become the king of the very toasty 24-hour non-stop party central.
So I too am more than happy to step down from this over-glorified pedestal of angelic duties
And skip into the silky meadows of decadent sin
And become its Empress!
a sinful angle ;))