Dear guardian angel,
Don't be too offended by this, but...are you even real? Are you watching me type this out right now, this second, like you should be? Or are you just some entity that is said to exist, but in reality, it's just a lie?
I want to know, if you are real, then why haven't I exactly gotten the guidance I need lately. Why haven't you protected me, like you're said to do, from all the things in my life that make me feel like I'm dying inside?
Why haven't you protected me from myself?
If you have tried, then, well...obviously you haven't tried hard enough for me to realize it or sense it.
Please. Try harder.
If you are truly real, guardian angel, then you know about my beliefs. You know that all those religious ideals that were drilled into me from the first day I could comprehend what the word "God" meant are slowly being replaced by nothing but cynical skeptism. You know that sometimes I would rather put what "faith" I do have in demons as opposed to angels, just because from what I've read and heard about, at least they keep their promises. Even if they do twist and distort said promises to benefit only them.
What are you really, guardian angel? Do you have wings and a halo? Or do you have horns and a forked tail?
Are you shaking your head in sadness right now, guardian angel? Or are you smirking in triumph? I would like to know, to be honest. I would like to know that if everything in the world can be solved with a simple prayer, then why is this world plagued with war, famine, pain, and all those wretched things you see on TV--the scenarios with the spokesperson asking for donations and the "moving" music in the background.
Why hasn't anything been done?
...can you even answer these things?
Hah...I doubt you can't. Why would you answer them if you really existed, anyway? You never made yourself known before--what makes this time around any different?
If guardian angels are real, then you're all doing a horrible job at keeping your charges from feeling like their world is turning to shit. Pardon my language, but since you're my guardian angel, then you know I have the mouth of a sailor.
I want something to believe in, guardian angel. Something worth believing in. Something that will make this sensation of slowly dying on the inside stop. Something that will bring the old me back--the happy, carefree, old me that always smiled and laughed and never let anything bother her. I miss her, you know. I miss her more than anything I have ever missed, I think. Because if you're real, guardian angel, then you know the me that is here right now is not the genuine me.
I'm begging you, guardian angel. All those nights I prayed and cried myself to sleep, all those days I find myself staring off into the distance thinking about all of this...I'm begging you.
Help me change things to make it better. Help me return back to the way I used to be. Help me stop thinking the world is out to get me, and that no one cares.
All I'm asking for is for you to help me, guardian angel.
Can you do that for me?
the me that is not me anymore