"you see angels, you see them in tiny porcelain figurines around your head, wispy, willowy, whispering. You're forgotten, they chorus, she's forgotten about you, your presence is a chore. A few of them snigger, the tiny fingers clasping their lips. You don't mean as much as you wish, she's more than happy on her own now, go away. Go away. A jeering singsong melody blossoms from a cluster of them. You crouch lower and will them to disappear, or are you? You're shrinking, or were they getting bigger, all you know is that the voices are louder, the jeering shriller, and suddenly you are cracking right in the many eyes of your doubts and fears"
Why I call them angels, I guess because every doubt has its childhood in hopes, and you can only ever lose trust in something you've invested your faith in.
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