~Not edited~
They say i'm insane. Absolutely crazy. Mad as a hatter. Why? Because I believe. My friends, my family, cowerkers. They all know of my 'obsession.' I never considered it an obsession. It was a belief that I never doubted once. Now I know what you're thinking. What the hell dose she believe in so much that would make her sound crazy?! Well, I believe in angels. I know, I know. That's not crazy at all but I talked to mine, even if they didn't talk back.
Ever since I was little I would talk to my guardian angel, which I named Angel. Creative, I know. My pairent's thought it was an adorable church girl faze but when they noticed I wasn't stopping anytime soon, they started to worry. After years of fretting, they finally took action. They took me to a psychiatric therapist. No- not took- dragged, since I was beyond the legal age to decide whether I wanted to go or not. which was a definite not.
So, at the age of twenty one, I sat uncomfortably in a purple fuzzy chair, being forced to talk about my feelings and the 'origin of my fascination' as doctor boring liked to put it. Freaking great.
"Please, Miss Hamptson. If you coopperate you will feel better, you're life will be normal, you will be happy and you could stop taking these sessions." The balding man in a dull grey suit sighed when he saw me perk up at the last part.
"This isn't normal. This isn't a religion and honestly, think about what a feature husband would think if his wife started to talk to an imaginary being with wings."
"Look, Mr.Duke." I mocked his tone, reciaving another sigh. "My belief is a danger to no one, my life or my santy. It's like believing in a religion and praying. It's the same thing. Don't give me that look!" I yelled when he raised his bushy grey eyebrows at me, effectively startaling him.
" I'm not sarting a cult!" I huffed as the man scribbled on his cipboard for a long time. after a while of sribbling, he put down his pen. when he opened his mouth to say something-most likely snooty a demeaning- the egg shaped cooking timer on his desk rang and I bolted out of the room as soon as I knew my session was over.
I crashed right into my father, his dark grey eyes focused on my light ones."Woah! Slow down there, kiddo." He said, steading me with a ferm grasp on my shoulders before I could fall. "Where's the fire?" He asked. I shrugged.
"Apparently, in the conversation that implies that I'm a crazy cult leader who in no way possible can lead a normal life due to her belief that a guardian angel watches over her." I said dryly. My mother's blue eyes widened in absolute shock and a bit of horror.
"The doctor said that?!" She gasped, a hand placed over her heart as if it would give out. I rolled my eyes and leaned my side against dad and he swung an arm around my shoulders, snickering.
"No, but I bet that's what he was thinking." I chirped, grinning as my mother relaxed,scowled and then smiled. She ran a hand through her short cropped red and greying hair.
"You are so dramatic, Vesper. I seriously thought for a moment that my baby girl was branded a total loon." I scowled when she said my real name and pulled my own fiery hair into a high poney tail. My father saw my face and laughed, the edges of his dark grey eyes crinkling in a warm and familure way.
"Mom, can you not call me that in public?" I half whined. My father ruffled my hair and I had to re-tie it. "Plus, I'm not a baby anymore. I'm twenty one. I have a job, I'm going to collage. I don't even know how you even got to drag me here." I let my arms drop to my sides once I had accomplished tying my hair into a side braid. By the look in my mothers wide baby blue gaze, I knew she was going to give me a speech on how I would forever be her darling little girl so I quickly took evasive action.
