Angel's blog

The lies are weak; the stories are tall... Kill the messenger eventually they will fall.

#TheWellProject. Where it all came alive to me. Life. Dreams. U = U...

I can not change what I am not willing to face. Be authentic. Realizing that to be authentic one's secrets must be faced - head on. Secrets are an example of WHAT IS LACKING IN YOUR LIFE AND IN YOU...

I often relate the taking of a pill daily to reliving the trauma of, say, a horrific event, being in court telling your story of the rape, killing someone while drinking and driving, losing a child...

Children are clay in the trusted hands of a human creator, loaned to us for a small moment in this space we consume. (Let’s understand first, I will not be striving for political correctness.)

I don't even want to do this. I'm so selfish which makes understanding me difficult. I am also selfless to a fault. I draw lines. So enough about me. I wrote a blog a while back. Since I was nineteen...

I wonder. Then I just imagine. Refreshing. Shouting out what takes space in the mind or heart. I am much more special than you could imagine. My journeys, adventures, memories are mine. I am on my way...

I have been undetectable of the illness since 2006; except for the stigma and unkind people that leave evident scars on my mental health.

Distance brought upon by ignorance and privilege. I read, I research and yet I find myself surrounded by those I trust. I still cannot get past how much worry and fear entangle in the everyday life of those closest to me.

I realized as I saw my computer screen with my grandkids, I never saw any kid grow up. Not my child, not my family's children.