The decision is final. I’m just not very good at my job. I can’t continue to have days like this and be okay with it.
I just can’t. So much for development.
I am sooooo angry, I can’t even write about how I had to physically get in the middle of a fight, in the middle of my busy f’n lunch time, and how the police came and how I had so few people to run the floor with that I actually had to lock the dining room.
Anger.
And screw my homework, too. I don’t care about the stupid degree, that even if I get, I’ll never use.
Anger.
Anger.
Anger.
The Girl with the Broken Pen 