Crystal Angeles
Bio
I have stories trapped in my body. I’m on here to purge!
Message me on Instagram @crystalangelesfilm
or e-mail - [email protected]
Stories (4/0)
Dear Body, I'm Sorry...
The last two and half years has had its ups and downs, which has been the major culprit to the abuse I submitted myself to. When I finally realized this, I had to sit down and reflect to better understand where all this frustration, anger, self-abuse, and resentment came from. Prior to these years, I was on a good path filled with strength and happiness that I gained through self-therapy and love. However, the result of what I’ve been through caused me to lose my identity and fall into an abyss of familiar bad habits. Some of these life altering moments included:
By Crystal Angeles2 years ago in Confessions
We Are Not Animals
It wasn’t the bright sun or the loud sounds of the diesel trucks zooming by that grasped my attention. It wasn’t the screaming, barefooted toddler, half naked with a stomach full of worms running away from his sibling that caught my attention. It was the loud sound of the owl sitting by the tree that made me realize my sister wasn’t near by anymore. Our grandmother lived half a block up the the street from my aunt’s house where we were at, and my sister was having fun running back and forth. I continued to color in my book not making it a big deal because I thought my mother was still at my grandmother’s house. The owl hooted again, and we stared at each other for a second. I heard a distant whimper coming from up the street and immediately got up and ran to my grandmother’s house. The whimper became a loud screaming cry for help as I got closer. As I arrived I saw my sister reaching out for me with a face full of fear and dirty tears. I asked my grandmother, in a very respectful tone, and without looking into her eyes, why my sister was tied to the post. With a stern and demanding tone she said she was tired of her running back and forth, and the only way to keep her still was to tie her up. I did not understand her logic, even at the age of 11. My sister was only 6 years old and she did not deserve this. I sat next to her and held her in my arms until my mother arrived because I did not dare let her loose. I did not dare find out what my grandmother would do to me. To help calm my sister down, I gave her the snack bowl my grandmother left for her on the floor. I started to tell her a story as I held her in my arms. It did not help that much, but luckily my mother arrived and started arguing with her mother.
By Crystal Angeles2 years ago in Fiction
A Letter to Ed
Lena was in disbelief about her fathers death, but the worst part was finding out that he lived so close to her while she spent years trying to find him and his family who never had a relationship with her or her mom. She never believed in miracles until the day the balloon crossed her path. A balloon with a letter attached to it that was written by his landlord, Roberto Gustavo Rodriguez. A humble and kind Mexican-American man who had two apartments he rented above his house. Lena’s father, Edward Bartnik, was a US Veteran that fought in World War II. He was never the same when he returned and when she was 17, he disappeared. Lena had spent over twenty years trying to find him. She knew something was wrong with her father, but she never asked or questioned him or his actions. She sat in her car in front of Roberto’s house crying. She was nervous to find out what Roberto had found as well as to read the details of her father’s tormented soul. Lena held Roberto’s letter in her hand as she reread it in pain. Her hands shook from a severe nerve problem that she needed surgery for, but couldn’t afford. She had spent all her money moving and looking for her dad so as a result, she opted for meds. However, the meds weren’t as effective. The letter read…
By Crystal Angeles3 years ago in Humans
