Breaking It Off With The Line Deputy

 I just made a call and left a voicemail for a woman I met through work months ago.  I stayed away to mind hierarchy, but now I am no longer employed by her company.  She and I had a great phone repour, and then had an extended information and intel session where we shared a lot about our lives and upbringing.  I have not had a friend for over 15 years.  Betrayal has been that great.  I now know it is time to put online that I have walked away from my Line Deputy and all other male entanglements that have barred me from community and promoted a sense of the domineering cycle of domestic abuse.  My Line Deputy met me because I was undercover for IA for Sgt. Gillespie of Indianapolis Police Department unpaid so that my cover would not be blown.  I was arrested infinity and tortured by him personally.  His crew did me too over and over through food denial, shower denial, cold chambers, and near close beatings.  I locked myself down by asking for suicide cell containment.  I was moved on occasion.  I did one night in general population.  Marion County facility is a governmental supermax for people with abilities.  Because I was there, and he did care, I got to wear clothes.  I was locked down when I was attacked by a woman who was black.  I was then given the disciplinary committee that was headed by an African American Sgt. named Johnson.  I lived with the worst, but most of my stay was on film.  I ate, showered, kept my cell and the cell block clean and was nice to those who were even on ice in penitentiary.  I would sometimes dress for dinner with my hair in a bun and have my bedsheet on tied as a sarong.  My total time there under two stints was 1.5 months for nothing misdemeanor charges where there were no Miranda Rights read.  I spent at least 1 month of that in my cell locked down.  I did ballet, calisthenics, Pilates, and yoga.  When I was on disciplinary block I ran back and forth very marine corps going against the sleep all day mysticals in that room.  At least I kept my hair.  There was one in RED uniform there.  I would also do Chung Moo jump kicks all the way down and ballet leaps back over and over.  I had 1/2 hour out.  I did do some reading on occasion too.  Around me, singing abilities boomed and all the inmates started singing.  They made melodious, contract worthy voices, but they sang around the clock.  The worst of the worst would be industry now without me.  These were all killers from birth or rapist larcenistic liars.  I was approached by Columbia Records because I was singing beautifully.  I said no and told the African American man to leave.  I did not want to be tied to him and the emerging penial colony music industry for the rest of eternity, never able to set the record straight.  My master, as I call The Line Deputy, held the keys to even my career and does so even here.  I know not what to say of love, but he cannot control my destiny anymore.  I will just walk as I do, and maybe I will not have to walk alone anymore.  Maybe some friends will be there for me to ensure that I will no longer give one man the key.  He is still very powerful in industry, but maybe so is she.  Line deputy, please set me free and set the record straight tonight.  I do not want a fight.  Maybe you and me will find a cloud in the sky together one day, looking up, and then you just bump into your buttercup.  The Line Deputy is The Head of The KKK, and I need to not have that on my resume.  I have never joined a hate group in my life, but I support the right of all to express their views and postulate on Apocalyptic theories about communities.  That is really all.  I now go back to cooking my pot roast.  Jennifer