Angel girl, I couldn’t protect you. Forgive me. I let you believe you were poison, and anyone who loved you would die a painful death. You wanted Love, but the cost was astronomical. You learned to live with platitudes and appearances. Now you spot them a hundred miles away, the half-truths and covered slime and, seven again, you smell the rat in the kitchen closet (my father took it out, big as a cat, I swear, while we were eating).
Angel girl, you have always been beautiful. I told you you were ugly and no one would ever want you. You’d be alone forever because that’s what you deserved. Forgive me.
I took in all the lies and repeated them to you, and when we both whole-heartedly believed them, they became the un-alterable truth. I led you into darkness and left you there. Forgive me.
Angel girl, I am older now (while you are still the same), and have finally learned how to love you as you deserve, have always deserved, waiting patiently, in good faith, for my embrace. I’ve loved my animals far sweeter than I loved you. Forgive me.
Thank you for never giving up on me. For carrying your burdens gracefully. For being so generous with your gifts. Thank you for showing me the beauty that exists and the hope which propels us forward. You are wise and wonderful, and I salute you. After all these doubtful years of lonely wandering, you are the hero I was searching for.