I believe in angels.

I think that some people are set in others' lives for the express purpose to eventually save them. Kind of like a guardian angel but without the wings and human. It's a subconscious calling--something they don't realize they're doing, but they do it and well. I have been blessed with at least two of these people, so far: my sister and my aunt.
I've written all sorts of praises on my sister. She's the only person I want a hug from when I'm crying. She's the only one who can really stop the crying (usually through laughter). She's extremely humble about her angelic status, but it's really what she is. There would have been much more pain in my life had I not had her to awkwardly pat me on the back and tell me not to "bawls".
And then there's my aunt. My decision to live with her was probably the best one I could have made, seeing the path ahead that I was about to embark upon. It's been a tough journey. Lately, it's been getting to me quite a bit to the point that I've started to consider ending it all. Suicide has crept through my mind like a poison just waiting, begging for the opportunity to take my system by storm. Obsession with death has been the after effects of this, causing me to remain in a dark state of mind for hours, days. Often, I don't try to talk to anyone during these spells because I don't like thinking that I might rub my mood off on them.
Earlier today, though it's happened many times before, I had just walked up to grab a drink when I just sat down in the kitchen to listen to the music and stare numbly out at the passing cars and fading sunlight when my aunt started a small conversation. It's always small talk: tidbits about everyday life or past events, only rarely does it get very deep. But next thing I knew, I was watching a show with her that she had wanted to show me, and then we were building a fire in the little fire pit and busting out marshmallows. By the end of the evening (past both our bedtimes), I had forgotten about my thoughts of ending my life and was enjoying the glow of the nearly-full moon.
The beauty of this is that she has no idea what she does for me. I don't tell her when I'm feeling chaotically, morbidly depressed. She wouldn't know what to do with that. But she heals me by talking about the small things that don't matter in the end of the grand scheme of things, but that mattered to her in those small moments. I think she would be incredibly embarrassed if she knew that I appreciated our conversations this much, but I really do believe that she's an angel who was meant to keep me guarded from my own devils while they run so violently through me.