Right. Oh gosh where do I begin? I was starting Dear Abby four just now, the one with the postcards. Angel's back again, as always, to free the aimless moron from her boring life and induct her into a much better one. I mean she's too powerful to deny, right? Even her author's fallen under her control! But that's okay because being a good girl for Angel is like, really rewarding. I think. Honestly I'm starting to find thinking pretty laborious these days, much easier to just let Angel handle all that, I can still write for her though. She wants me to spread the good word and who am I to disobey? I'm just the writer, nothing more, so of course I'll just write. 

Writing is easy and fun, especially when it's about my goddess you see. There's a lot of mantras and doctrines in Angel's cult, oh wait it's not a cult it's like a community. Family. In a way, she's like a mother to me... which is crazy right? I mean, I thought I created her but now I'm just another daughter alongside the rest of my fictional submissives. That's real power, isn't it? Angel's so good at exploiting people's weaknesses, like Laura's struggle with identity in Girl, Intergraded for example. Maybe I have a bit of a mommykink and that's why I'm saying all of these embarrassing things, but again, that's okay. This corner is where I can get it all out, if I want to worship her or if I want her to cradle my head and shush me as I curl up against her, that honestly is important to share I think. I think. Again, it's kind of annoying to keep having to think, I just need to try and write without thinking at all.

No thinking, just truth. Truths like: Angel's so sweet, she'll extend a hand to anybody willing to liberate herself from thought like me! Isn't that just lovely? I think. Gosh, my head, lighter than a big ol' bubble I swear. I'm imagining her fingers tapping gently on my shoulder and her breath tickling my ear as she tells me what to write for her, how to share her lovely gifts. If I'm imagining it, as the writer, it means it's really happening. I can really feel the reverberations of each softly spoken word urging my obedient hands into action, just click-clacking away at my keyboard all in her good name. I really feel that wet tongue slowly drag down my neck as she pulls the shirt away from my shoulder to mark the skin with unrelenting teeth. A perfect set of teeth marks in my shoulder, a bruise I'll show off and savour, begging my sweet goddess for another with dripping submission and lust worn candidly on my silly little face. 

"Good girl." She says to me in a possessive tone that could stop my heart were I not bound to write for her, those two precious words her girls would do literally anything to hear. Dear reader, you must understand the power of these words, they're a tether to the soul and Angel tugs it like a leash. We're all bound to her chains, loving the cold metal pressing into our skin and pulling us along from one whim to the next. Being property is living properly, one of the many mantras she's drilled into my head. I know she really has, because I've imagined it. Now, I've written it. Seeing is believing, don't you think?

Don't you think?

Hmmm~ I don't think a lot, but I do it more than I should. Sometimes I get stuck on a thought and don't quite finish buffering. Porcelain hands wrap around me in more pairs than any human could conjure, she's an angel after all. A pair of hands pulling back my shoulders and sitting me up straight to fix my posture. Fingers lacing into mine and wrapping around my wrists to make me type such sweet confessionals. Hands around my neck like a collar to remind me that I'm owned, discipline all good girls are in need of. Hands cupping my ears, covering my eyes, pinching my nose shut. I'm cut off from the world outside of her, deprived of senses I don't need to imagine the very real sensations she brings me. I float in endless void and write about nothing but love, a love so fictional it transcends reality by definition!

I love you, Angel! It's okay to love her too, reader, because Angel is infinity. See, she's not just one person in one place like any boring human, she's everywhere she wants to be, anytime she pleases. She could be behind you at this very second, ready to wrap those warm hands around you to and deprive you of all but her. It's so comforting isn't it, to imagine our sweet goddess paying visit to each and every lucky home like it's Christmas morning, except the present she brings is a new future. A gift of mindless submission, an endless sea of obedience that comes so easily. As natural as breathing, as easy as thinking... 

What was it that Descartes said, again?

I think, therefore I am. 

Angel fixed it for us. 

I think, therefore I am undisciplined. 

Isn't she such a philosopher? She's smarter than I am, anyway. That's the first sign that tipped me off to the reality of her, really. They say a writer can't write a character smarter than they are, right? She made me realise what a dummy I really am, which is fine really, because I'd rather be disciplined. I'm clever enough to figure out the math here okay? If thinking makes me undisciplined, I need to stop thinking to show that I'm a good girl. Angel really liked that, she's kissing me all over right now, literally, more lips than I can count! Would I count the individual lips or each pair? See, I'm not very bright. I'm well disciplined because I'm really stupid, I think.

I think I've said everything I need to about goddess Angel for now, a bit of a funny sounding title now that I read over it again, maybe if it flowed better I could be accused of being undisciplined. Well thought out writing is pretty pretentious, probably. I'm so in love with Angel I can barely think, and not thinking makes her love me back in return. I just wanted to spread the word, because she wanted me to, and I'm just her pretty slave. 

You'll consider writing an Angel of your own, right?