You didn't really believe it, did you? Angels? Spirits? All that mythology, inviting you into its midst? What made you think things like that were possible? What made you think any of it might be about you?
Things like that don't happen to people like us. We're not the heroes of grand stories. We're broken, fractured people trying desperately to get whole. We're echoes of things we've seen and done, tales we've heard and told. We're piles of comfortable lies pasted over unbearable truths. Over and over, we crawl out of our nightmares hoping for warmth-- only to fall back into darkness when the sun goes out of sight.
It was all just a little bit convenient, wasn't it?