"I am not your perfect angel" by atwojay
He told me I was perfect.
He said I was his angel.
He created an elaborate fantasy where I reached down into Hell and lifted him up to set his feet upon a rock.
He said he would be lost were I ever to leave him.
It took me way too long to shed the guilt and walk away.
I am not perfect.
I am no angel.
And telling me I’m perfect isn’t cute, and it isn’t sweet, and it isn’t romantic.
It’s a lie, and it’s an attempt to control me.
He didn’t truly see me as perfect.
He wanted to change me, to mould me into his ideal woman.
He asked me to be more “bubbly”, more outgoing, less of me.
“Why can’t you be more like your friend? She’s always happy and bubbly.”
When he called me perfect, I rebelled.
A chill swept over my skin, my hands shook, and my stomach rolled.
If he truly saw me as perfect, I would soon fall.
No one can keep to that standard.
Don’t put me on a pedestal, because I will fall off.
I am human.
Humans are not perfect.
We struggle; we succeed; we fail; we soar; we fall.
I am not an angel.
I cannot save you.
It is not up to me whether you live or die, whether you succeed or fail.
I cannot be held responsible for your life.
He was angry and sad when I finally took my leave.
I was relieved.
It was as if a planet had lifted from my shoulders, leaving me free to breathe.
I let go of all misplaced responsibility for anything but myself, and I walked away.