Pitty Fuck.

Chef Gallacher found me three apprenticeships in Niagara. In two more months I will never have to live in this God foresaken city again. In two more months, I will be gaining my 4000 hours that are necessary to become a chef and in two more months, I'll never sleep in the same bed as Andrew again.

I went home for my break and had an awesome fucking time.
I hung out with some friends, met some new friends, did a lot of baking and just enjoyed the use of a car, a house, the lack of responsibility and the massive amount of time that seemed to tick away in the most happiest of ways. I didn't miss Andrew in the slightest.
But coming home and seeing the mess that he's gotten himself into just made me feel bad for him and now there's this overwhelming surge of guilt ripping through me that keeps mouthing, "You fucking bitch. He's useless. What is he going to do without you?"

Ah Zut.

Two days ago I was so disgusted with him that just looking at him made me miserable. Now, I feel so much pitty for the stupid man that I almost burst into tears every time I think of leaving him. Yesterday I threw out milk in the fridge that was two months old. I didn't even know it was there 'cause Andrew stuffed it behind the meat and cheese bin. The fucking bastard can't even clean out the fridge properly! *sigh*

I'm too nice, but I'm not stupid. Staying him to take care of him is not something I'm willing to let myself do. I need to move on, but its difficult and I'm amazed that I've managed to be brave enough to persue a future without him this far.

I am excited for it though.