Angels In William Faulkner's Embrace

I am not an angel. But after reading your book, Embrace, I have begun to think that maybe I am. In this reality, angels are golden, luminous, and the epitome of perfection. In your reality, angels are the bringers of death, destruction, and the downfall of mankind. In that sense, maybe I am an angel.
Wherever I go, things just fall apart. I’ve had issues with stress and friendship, and on top of all of that, I’m a hopeless romantic. I know things will never be like in the fairytales, but I’m a born dreamer. When I read your book, I could feel everything happening. I felt the sickening crunch of bones when Violet kicked someone, Lincoln’s blood pounding with anger when Violet was with Phoenix, and the complete heartbreak that overcame Phoenix when he sacrificed himself for the girl he loved but could never have. I became the book. I was so deep under the glassy surface of fantasy and terror that I didn’t notice
I’m not this self-sacrificing, kind, beautiful, ornately framed picture of perfection that she is. If I was put in her situation, I don’t think I could have. I would be hiding a corner, my head in my hands, trying to comprehend what’s going on, too panic-stricken to do anything. I realized that I wasn’t her, and probably never would be. Then I looked to the angels. I found fragments of myself in them; I looked into their eyes and saw my face staring back at me. I am an angel, if only a different version, a transfer from one reality to the next. That was when I discovered that everyone is an angel. We all have this fabric of lies weaving around us that we want people to believe, and on the inside is an angel begging to be let out. Some people release them into the world, and others have hidden themselves away in a web of deception so thick that they themselves start to believe them, quelling the angel inside them. Fake it ‘til you make it, that’s how it