I think that I bought into Robert’s idea that I am an alien and Troy’s idea that I am an Archangel for several reasons. Who wants to be ordinary? Just an ordinary human with ordinary problems? Everyone wants to be treated like they are different, because we are all different. Yet, we fear the unknown in others and in ourselves. If I was an alien, I could come up with some bizarrely fashionable look or maybe parade around like a human all day as if I were the proverbial fly on the wall that everyone wants to be. Big Brother at its finest. I could teleport or zap my foes with a ray gun or be kissed by William Shatner. I could go up into space and see that the outline of states and countries as resembled tiny Native American beads. I could morph into anyone or anything without the pressure of bills and rent and waving to that person that I don’t care for yet seek their approval anyway. I could be a fearless version of me.
On the other hand if I were an angel, I COULD have the wish of my heart if I ever decided what that is. What is the wish of my heart? Isn’t that a tricky question. The most difficult exam I had in all of my years was a makeup test for the book The Heart of Darkness. When I asked my teacher for the essay question, he slyly looked at me and replied, “You make it up and then answer it. You have fifty-five minutes. What??? I thought that this man truly could do alien things like go to the moon for cheese and crackers. Though I was young and wanted to impress him, I still do that people pleasing crap. I didn’t want to choose a super easy question, because I was full of hubris or a difficult one, because it would limit my writing capabilities thus my argument would be weaker. So, what is the wish of my heart? Well, that depends on how boldly I could let myself go to the throne of God. And, as an angel, I could help everyone with tireless energy without getting mixed up in their emotions. I would be like a grandmother who gets to enjoy her grandchildren but pass them off to her child to take care of at the end of the day. I could enjoy the lush beauty of the earth and the wonderful presence of the All Mighty. I would never be under the condemnation of sin. I would never disappoint God or be angry with Him. In fact, I would never have any emotions. God would give me my daily assignments. I would complete them, and God would give me a pat on my halo and let me keep my wings for another day.
Unfortunately, I am human. I feel more emotions in five minutes than the sky has stars. I hate it. There’s a saying where I live, “If you don’t like the weather, wait five minutes. It will change.” That saying easily and perfectly describes my moods. I used to say I am sorry constantly. Mom would get on me for saying it, and I would apologize for that. I am too old for this shit anymore. It takes brass balls to say this is who I am. Take it or leave it. So hard, because I have lost so many and so much. I am a woman grieving. Yes, I am grieving for my husband, my aunt, and my parents, but I am, also, grieving for all of the years that I have lost while living in fear, all of the happiness that escaped me, all of the children I have lost, all of the years I won’t get back, all of the friendships that I destroyed, my inability to live a normal life, my abusers who I can’t beat with a baseball bat, because I want to destroy the person that they were when they were raping me and not the dusty, old shells of yesteryear. I feel like Rachel, a thousand years dead, screaming and crying for the children two and under murdered by a Roman madman. Everyone sees and hears, but not one person does anything to help. At this moment, I may be invisible, but I choosing to live unapologetically me.