idle musings

my delusions of redemption have become much more prevalent in my daily routine. i thought i was fine being human, but i’m not. i miss my old self.

i’m blending in much better than i thought; i’ve even started thinking much more like these humans. it’s confusing, but i’m getting there. i just hope i don’t lose my morality.

i think i’ve fallen in love with a human. my phantom wings even fluttered ...

beauty is pain, they say. mine was painless, the pain only came after my beautiful wings were ripped from my back and i was forced to live in seclusion.

they laughed and pointed, making fun of my crude, makeshift wings i had crafted from the fallen feathers of my bird friends. these wings were fake, but they were the closest i had to my past life other than the real thing. i didn’t let their cruel words hurt me. they don’t know what it’s like.

i’m in love with the idea of love— almost as much as i’m in love with the idea that i’ll somehow return to my birth place.

treat me like trash because that’s all i’ll ever be; i’ll never be as happy as i did above.

i feel a sort of kinship with the animals that inhabit the sky. i also feel strangely jealous, mourning my lack of ability to fly as freely as they do.

my ulterior motive is giving back to those who have wronged me. to the helpless, frail humans on the wrong path to salvation. they need our assistance. what would they do without us, anyways?

my mother and a couple of priests tried to perform an exorcism on me once, when this body was younger. little does she know, you cannot exorcise what was once an angel.