The Chillseek'r

Ever since the woman I thought I was spending the rest of my life with, with whom I sat and came up with the whole nursery theme, to whom I was engaged to at one point told me she was "glad she had a miscarriage so she didn't have to raise a kid with me" I've felt, like, hollowed out.

Why do we accept this dumbfuck idea that we need to work ourselves into the grave and forfeit any semblance of a life, relationships, etc. in the restaurant industry? This shit is fucking ridiculous. I guess, maybe, that I'm just not as self loathing or, like, chasing approval as I thought I was because why the fuck am I working 60+ hour weeks for a place who's, like, top 5 biggest sellers are eggplant parm, veal parm, chicken parm, rigatoni & broccoli, and a small 4 slice neopolitan pizza?????? Like we aren't in some bustling downtown metropolis, we dont have Michelin stars....it's just an Italian place in the woods. The 24 hour gas station down the road gets comparable business for fucks sake.

Not only do I get to cross off a high school bucket list concert but I'll get to perform a manifestation ritual with them?!