Rest.

October this year blew.
And it sucks that it blew because October is my favourite month out of the whole year and up until now, I've only got to experience it twenty-five times. God damn it eh? Doesn't it always seem like you experience more than you actually have? Twenty-five really isn't that big of a number.

My time at Willow came to an abrupt ending when I took the bread shift.
At first I thought that everything would be cool: Work nights, get raise, do bread - there really wasn't that many cons to the job. When I realised that the amount of work they wanted completed was absolutely asinine, added to the fact that no one would give me the help I needed, I sort of had a mental break down, so I quit.
My last week at Willow was one of complete and utter hell. Working in an all woman kitchen is quite possibly the most disgusting environment I have ever been in. I will never reccomend that kitchen to anyone because of that fact alone. Add in that there are no sanitation guidelines, dirty fridges, moldy fruit and terrible management and it could easily be said that the kitchen at Willow would have made Gordon Ramsey shoot himself in the face. I shit you not.
When I told Cathy about my concerns and my desire to leave, she told me that if I applied where I wanted to, she'd make sure that the owner knew about all of my bad habits. Nice threat, way to break the law.

I left anyway. I applied to where I wanted and I got hired. I have an apprenticeship now. I make more money. I don't have to do a crapload of work and I *will* get paid for the hours that I work. Holy cow, its like having a real job.

It was hard for me at Willow, to function in a world of bullshit and drama 24/7.
I've never felt so tiny, so insecure and so broken. My ambition, my passion was completely gone... Now that I'm in a new kitchen, I slowly see it coming back.

It took me a month to find the courage in myself to tell Cathy to go fuck herself. When I walked out of the kitchen for the last time, I felt as light as a marshmallow. Everything just went away.

I never want anyone to feel the way I did. I never want anyone to feel pressured by bills and social standards... I want people to remove themselves from shitty situations because its the right thing to do.
I learned from this whole mess that you should never let anyone treat you like you're nothing. Walk away from it, maintain your dignity and don't worry about the bills. If you look, you will find a means to an end and you will be happy.

I will never be made to feel unhappy in a workplace ever again.

No one fucks with the diddums.

Gone.

I had the most remarkable feeling today.
It reminded me of the time that I accidentally slept through one of my Art History exams. It was the undeniable pang of panic. Oddly enough, I handled it quite nicely.

He told me a few weeks back that he might leave, but I didn't believe him. That's when I said my goodbye, but I never fully believed that I would never see him again. I thought I would always know where to find him. Today, when I realised he was gone, I felt like someone had hit my chest with a baseball bat. The feeling left from that blow literally squeezed through my heart and lungs until it plunged out of my eyes. I just put my head down and got back in my car.

Ray made it better though.
Its interesting, to have someone that you felt so deeply about (for all the wrong reasons), leave you without any trace. Its such a bizarre notion to think that someone you had a relationship with (a relationship that ended because it had to, not because it was wanted), is just randomly floating around somewhere. Usually people phase out of my life after leaving the most horrid of impressions. This man however, will be forever hallowed. Its some fucked up shit.
What would happen if I did see him again? Would we smile, would we pick up where we left off? Would we stare at eachother for a moment and then turn in the other direction? Even now, after only knowing for a couple hours, whenever I hear the sound of dangling keys, my head turns just to make sure it isn't him.

Its a new level of pathetic.

I suppose if I really wanted to I could find him. But I enjoy the mystery of this, the not knowing and the romance of a love lost.
It doesn't hurt so much now. If anything, its just given me the justification to be a sentimental, goth idiot that laments over stupid shit that doesn't matter. Its like a return to my teenage years through the traumatic loss of young love.

My heart really is black.