Descended Angel

My life has been completely pointless. Day by day I passed life inertly and with great melancholy. Nothing seemed to matter, because these days, nothing has a consequence. Adolescent philosophers pass by whispering with their cold, ignorant breaths, “Life is just a video game, it gets harder and harder and in the end, you end up wasting your time and losing it all.” I believed them for the majority of my life and ultimately I became one of them, hiding my own arrogance by creating hollow values for others to follow.1

But one relentlessly bitter winter day, I was perambulating down the dirt roads of the local park. It was snowing heavily and I was wearing nothing but a T-Shirt and jeans for a reason I now forget. I had headphones shoved into my frostbitten ears as I walked with my face towards the ground. The entire park was deserted.2

I found her standing next to an old cracked statue of an angel. She had her head down as I did, but when I looked up at her, she returned the gaze. I saw her soft, light-brown eyes and her elegantly pink cheeks. Her wavy hair fluttered in the wind, shadowing the angel standing adjacently. She was absolutely beautiful. I walked further towards her, as did she towards me. We mirrored each other’s paces until our bodies were no more than a few inches apart. My iPod fell to the ground with a loud crack.3

Abruptly, I felt no more coldness. I saw the snowstorm continuing about me, I saw the frozen ponds and fogged glass of cars and buildings, but the frigid iciness was replaced by intense warmth that heated my very core. I stared into the eyes of the angel descended from the heavens. I smiled and she once again copied me. I let myself lean closer towards her. This time, she did not duplicate me but simply continued staring with her innocent eyes. I could smell her sweet yet subtle aroma as I moved ever so slowly closer.4

At that exact second I felt something I’d never felt before. Something that filled me with utter joy and excitement, something that somehow gave me a meaning to live, to enjoy each day, something that I know I knew the name of, for poets talk about it all the time. The name I had almost forgotten, but it came hand in hand with this mysterious figure of beauty. It was love.5

I finally came close enough to feel her warm breath against my face. My lips slowly reached out for hers. For a split second of wondrous magic, I felt hers lips touch mine ever so softly, but it was a true kiss. My love at first sight for her grew exponentially. 6

Immediately after, I woke up. Thrusting my body to an upright position, I screamed out in rage as I ran blindly out the door. The winter cold immediately hit my body like a million needles. But I didn’t care. I just wanted to see the figure of true beauty again. The dream was so real, so concrete, and so beautiful, I continued sprinting down the dirt road of the park, the same dirt road I had followed to meet my love. People on the streets stared at me. Finally, I found the opening where I had met the cherub. But there was no warmth at the end of the road, just the cracked stone statue of an angel descended from heaven.