"It seems like every time you come up, something happens to bring you back down."
~tupac
Dear Angel,
I am an awful person. Do you remember our Thanksgiving dinner?
I do.
"Hey, baby doll," you had said upon my opening of the door. I remember being so happy you had come, so a bright grin was spread over my face.
"Hey," I had said in return. "I'm glad you could make it," I said. I was lying, Angel, I was not glad. I was ecstatic. "Well, come on in," I had said to you, opening the door wider, allowing you access.
Stepping inside my flat, you looked around with an appreciative smile. "Nice place you got here," you said.
"Thanks," I said, twisting my hands nervously. "Um, sorry, I don't really have anything to eat, I wasn't expecting guests."
You just waved a hand, blowing off my concerns. "S'okay, doll, I know the perfect thing."
And you spread a blanket across the floor, placed candles around us, turned the lights off, and placed junk food on it, I just stared at you in amusement. "What's this," I had asked you.
"Oh, I just thought you'd like something small." and you smiled that beautiful, heart-stopping grin at me, laid-back as usual.
And then thinking back on that night, full of small laughs and funny stories, our full attention on one another, I realized something.
I realized, I don't deserve you. Your beautiful smile, and your perfectly arrogant personality, and the way that you're content doing nothing. I don't deserve any of the kindness you are giving to me. And yet I can't help but be addicted to you. To the way you still try.
Because, Angel, I'm broken. And I don't think I can be repaired.
As always,
Ash
omgomgomgomg 100+ votes?! and 1.5k reads. lolol whut. i still can't believe that people actually like this story. aaaaaaand, its in the rankings? gurrl, thats awesome. keep it up! c