My Angel is my guiding light...that keeps me going through all the hurt and pain...the memories that hurt me deeply...the tears that I can't cope with alone...

My Angel is my hope for the future...my idol, and the woman that I look up to above all others.

My Angel is who I aspire to be like in the years to come...to be as loving, caring and considerate as her. 

My Angel is the voice of reason. She is the ear that listens to all that I have to say. She is the shoulder that I cry those painful tears on.

My Angel is the mother inside of me...the mother that loves all of me.

My Angel is the reason for the tears trickling down my cheeks right now. She is the reason for the love that once again, I can feel. 

And I know that My Angel will always be there for me. Until forever is over.

Me and Mum saw the film the other week. Its Beautiful. Absolutely Beautiful. I nearly cried, several times. I love it. All of it. And the ending was perfect. I nearly cried there as well. 

And so I read the book. Which I finished yesterday. It was equally beautiful. And made me nearly cry almost as much. And in fact in a couple of places I did cry. 

Its about this little girl Lily, who has grown up thinking that she accidently killed her mother, when she was just four years old. Now, 14, she wishes for forgiveness and a Mother's love. Her only friend is a black servant Rosaleen. 

Racial tension explodes that summer and Rosaleen is arrested and beaten. Lily breaks her out and the two of them run away together. Finding sanctuary in the home of three sisters; May, June and August. Lily starts on a journey uncovering the mystery of her mother. 

My favourite character is August. She is...well lets just say is she was real I would love to be her daughter. I would give anything for that. In the film she is play by Queen Latifah, one of my favourite actresses. August is everything that I think a mother should be. Kind. Understanding. Forgiving. Sympathetic. Caring. Loving. Beautiful. 

As I was reading a bit in the book about Lily hugging August and pouring all her sorrow over her, well, it made me want my own August. A motherly figure to love. Then I stopped and thought, well I do, don't I? I have Sara. She is my mother. She is the one I run to. I tell her everything. She chooses to love me. She doesn't have to. She chooses to. For all my faults. She believes in me. She loves me. Like August loves Lily. 

I love Sara so much. So much that sometimes it actually hurts. 

Of course, I have my own Mother. Not like Lily., But a surrogate mother can say more than an actual mother sometimes. A mother has to love their child do they? Someone who chooses to love you, choose to be your Other Mother. They can show you a kind of love that, in a way, can mean more. 

Yea, I do love my Mum, I love her more than words can say. I'd rather die than see her hurt again. But Sara brought me back to life. Because she choose to love me. 

Whether she will ever read this I don't know...I did tell her about this blog today. But who knows which posts she will read, and which she won't. I don't mind her reading this. I mean she went through it all with me, and she has even read my diary, so you can't really get anymore personal than that. Sometimes I suspect she knows me better than I know myself. 

Don't get me wrong though, there are certain things I would never dream of telling her, partly because I am ashamed of them, partly because she has this view of me as being quite good and well, innocent I guess. Yet I have done some pretty bad stuff in my time. What teenage girl hasn't. 

Anyway, I am sidetracking. What was I going to say? 

Sara is an important part of my life. She means a lot to me, and I would trust her with my life. With her, I know that she will never judge me, never run away, never share my secrets. I know that she will always be my surrogate mother. Always care. And I also know that she will never know just how much she means to me. She in a way, brought me back to life. She gave me what no one else could when I was feeling at my worst. She gave me belief, not only in myself, but also in the world around me. She gave me the ability to care once again, about myself, and others. She helped me to trust. To trust her. To trust me. To trust my family. 

It is because of her that at the end of hard days that I sit on my bed, in the dark, look out of my window and pray to God. Not because I really believe in Him. I am agnostic. But because I believe in her. And she believes in Him. And so I pray. 

She always saw the best in me. And me in her. I look up to her. She is my Angel.