Bleed Me Dry

I just got to Starbucks and had a yummy bacon, egg, and gouda sandwich on a ciabatta roll. A Columbia Heights cop who was in the other day just came in. I bugged him telepathically and sent him on his merry little way. I am feeling better today. I was prescribed some Melitonin for sleep. I took it for the first time last night and I slept very well. I woke up early, but rested. I feel like my therapy is dredging the bottom of the harbor, but it is working too. I am thinking of Officer Dunlop and his whole cop crew today. I miss you, Dunlop. Echoes from the past are coming through, especially the recording I made primarily for you in Muncie, IN. Last night the trains were answering my thoughts. It told me that Officer Joseph Krejsa was out of his Muncie,IN, cage. It also told me to remove a weblog entry and to change the names in another one. I think that my roommate is getting a little tripped out. The trains were kind of the infinity. I am used to these things, but others who have done so much wrong by me are getting a little afraid of the judgement of St. Peter and God, simultaneously. Line Deputy, this Wiccan coven who sexually abused me between the ages of 4 and 6 bled me dry like a Halal meat sacrifice (cut my wrists and and slit my throat and hung me upside down) and then drank my blood from a communal chalice. I was the "charm". It is not Satanism. I used all of my military mystical gifts to sew up and heal and hide the scars and to replentish my blood supply before I went brain dead the next day. It now explains why I have never been a cutter, but I have a desire to cut my throat and wrists when I get parasuicidal. It may also be the reason you have some scarcity issues around how you vampiricly feed on me. It will get better when we know ourselves better in vicinity of each other. Missy Higgin's song "Special Two" just played, and it fits perfectly for us and this situation.