Angela David
Bio
Writer. Creator. Professional overthinker.
I turn real-life chaos into witty, raw, and relatable reads—served with a side of sarcasm and soul.
Grab a coffee, and dive into stories that make you laugh, think, or feel a little less alone.
Stories (71)
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Congratulations, You Just Gave Birth to a Screaming Dictator!
Let me be clear: I love my baby. I really do. But that first week home? I was 97% nipple, 2% snack crumbs, and 1% soul. No one prepares you for postpartum life. Sure, they prep you for labour and teach you how to breathe like you’re about to give birth to a dolphin in a yoga class—but once the baby is out? It’s crickets. No manual. No hotline. Just you, your leaky boobs, and a tiny dictator who doesn’t care that you haven’t slept since the last season of Stranger Things.
By Angela David8 months ago in Families
The Boy Who Carried a Promise
I remember the way the dirt stuck to his boots. Michael wasn’t the kind of boy who fit in. Not in town. Not at school. Not even at home, where silence sometimes filled more space than love. But he had something the others didn’t: a promise—a quiet, unwavering vow he made to the woman who kissed his forehead every morning before chores and whispered, "You were made for more."
By Angela David8 months ago in Motivation
I’ll Never Love Again: The Goodbye That Took My Heart With It
I still remember the way you looked at me the night you left — like you knew something I didn’t. Like you were memorizing me for the last time, quietly archiving the curve of my cheek, the way my hands trembled when I was trying to be brave. You didn’t say much. Neither did I. Some goodbyes are too heavy for words.
By Angela David8 months ago in Humans
Just a Girl in Love: A Story for the One Who Wouldn’t Stay
I didn’t know much about him—not really. Not the kind of knowing that counts. I knew how he laughed when he was nervous, how he cracked his knuckles when deep in thought, how he always ordered lemon in his tea even though he rarely drank it. But the things that matter? His fears, his past, the broken edges he hid behind charm and easy smiles—I never got close enough to touch those.
By Angela David8 months ago in Confessions
The Bunny Delivery Disaster (Or: How I Ended Up in Customs Wrapped in a Blue Bow)
Let me explain. It all started with one—one—glass of Prosecco and a reckless Amazon order made at exactly 2:47 AM. I was lonely. I was bored. And I was two episodes deep into a late-night romcom binge. I didn’t want a man. I didn’t want a one-night stand. No. I wanted… a honeybunny. A snuggle-beast. A fuzzy cuddle-creature with paws that wouldn’t ghost me.
By Angela David8 months ago in Humor
A Woman in Love (And the Distance Between Us)
Life is a moment in space. I never understood that lyric until the day you left. Not in a dramatic, suitcase-in-hand kind of way. You didn’t slam doors or shatter plates. You just… slowly faded from the edges of my life like breath on a mirror. One day, I turned around, and the person I loved most was a stranger in the same room.
By Angela David8 months ago in Motivation
The Orphan Who Rewrote Elegance: The Story of Coco Chanel
Once upon a time, in a cold stone orphanage in Saumur, France, a little girl named Gabrielle sat by the window and stitched dreams into scraps of fabric. She was not born into beauty, but into loss. Her mother had died when she was twelve, and her father—unable or unwilling to care for her—left her in the care of Catholic nuns. Gabrielle Chanel’s life could have ended right there: one more forgotten girl swept away by poverty and silence.
By Angela David9 months ago in Styled
The Day the Church Burned: A Story I’ll Never Unsee
A few nights ago, I walked into my kitchen and smelled smoke. Not again… We’ve had fires in the mountains nearby—dry weather, careless sparks, the usual disasters. From my window, I can see the hills, and lately, they’ve been stained with smoke too often.
By Angela David9 months ago in Humans
Where the Love Goes When You’re Gone
"I Still Set the Table for Two" I walk the same path every day, as if the pavement could somehow remember you. As if the cracked sidewalk could whisper your name back to me when the wind moves just right. I know you’re not here. I’ve known it for a long time now. But grief doesn’t operate on facts. It runs on feelings. And mine have never quite caught up with reality.
By Angela David9 months ago in Families
Nothing But You (And Still I Wait)
Nothing But You (And Still I Wait) I don’t have anything else. Not really. Not in the way people mean when they talk about “having it all.” Career, family, weekends full of plans, hearts full of new beginnings. No. I had you. And then I didn’t.
By Angela DavidExclusive • 9 months ago
