So its me and the anxiety. Maybe its because I heard from my dad on the phone this afternoon and he doesn't sound too great. He's still sick and has been for at least a month. Maybe I just don't have anything to do. I have this blog to type into and nothing to say! What the heck! When I was manic, I had everything in the world to say. I do miss that part of being manic: the creativity. (There's a man sitting near me who looks homeless and more than that keeps coughing this terrible cough. I hope its not catching!) I really feel like the angels are missing. I want them back. I really do. Please come give me messages again. Come sing to me. I could play In Paradisum again, I suppose. Lately, I've been listening to Allegri's Miserere which has been a favorite piece of mine since I was 16. I've heard many renditions, but this is the newest. I am partial to boy choirs singing it, but these women do a very nice job, especially the top soloist. These angels will have to suffice. All the angels from the past recordings are in my mind singing, "Have mercy upon me..." I still hate myself, but this music calms me. I'll never sing like these people. I'm too out-of-practice and, frankly, too old, but I can still listen. The hate feelings are still there and I don't know why. I don't know why. I don't know why. Angels come to me. Where are you? Where where where are you? Comfort me again. Tell me that everything is right in the world. That I am invincible. That I am okay. That you are waiting for me. Come back. Come back to me and give me that blissful feeling of warmth. Wrap yourself around me and protect me. I know everything and am everything when you are with me. Return again and sing your seraphim selves as one, enveloping me and taking me with you, rising up, up and up.
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