Who is your angel?

I had reached a stage of utmost despair. I could feel myself wrecked inside out. Things like why are children shouting so much, had started to get ounces of my attention. Incessant rains started to annoy me no bounds. Inspirational quotes no longer seemed to be anything more than unnecessary philosophy.

In a whirlwind, my life was tumbling down. When I started plummeting into my own, is a question I'm yet to fathom. Every morning, I used to wake up feeling a maniac who hated himself a bit more each moment.

I would take the liberty to say this if nobody hasn't already said it before, "Hiding doesn't mean evading. It just goes on to emphasize how mature you are to explore options when doors are all shut and windows do not open!"

And that's exactly what I did. Hid myself. My phone number gave "switched off" messages all the time. Except my family, no body knew I was out somewhere away from home in a pursuit towards self.

For the first time, I celebrated my birthday alone. A desolate soul in isolation would break anybody. At least that's what I used to believe. It was when my philosophy took a beating that I realized what an irony life itself is. That birthday spent in solitude sent my confidence two notches up and in a very strange manner I felt that the downhill fall had faced some resilience finally.

The instinct in me was coming back. Something was telling me that the journey uphill was challenging and the road discovered was hard earned. What was that voice?
Well, I never pursued an answer to that.

I focused on not losing something that was hard earned. It was time to go back home. While I was coming back, a particular thought kept crossing my mind, time and again. How many people would take the pain of rediscovering themselves by being put to such hostility.

I had my parents who gave me my struggle. Who is your angel?