Take my own life just to save yours
Drink it all down just to throw it up
Take my own life just to save yours

Take my own life just to save yours
I got a reputation that I can’t deny
You’re the superstar, entertain us

Entertain us
But please don’t wake me up
I betrayed us
But us don’t give a fuck

Kill myself today
Kill it all away
Broken path I made
Please just stay away

I know I fucked up before, but I won’t do it again
And I got a lot of things that I wish I would’ve said
And I’m the same damn fool, and I’m wearing that hat again
I know I fucked up, and I can’t make it right

Watch yourself, I can’t slow down
This is who I am
Can’t be anyone else, so
Don’t let me go, save yourself
Just save yourself
Just save yourself

Do you ever feel like you’re just floating through life? Like you’re not living, you’re just existing, not happy not sad just…there.

It’s a feeling I’ve been going through for a few days now and I don’t know what to do with it. Gardy told me to give the feelings to god and god will tell me what to do with it, but I don’t think I’ve reached that level of believe in god quite yet, or if I ever will for that matter.

I do believe I can put into the universe that I feel lost and the universe will guide me where I need to go, whether that’s god or not is simply a matter of opinion.

In this phase of being lost, I’ve been thinking a lot about reputation, and how part of me feels like Boston is such a small city, and I’ve burned a couple of bridges in the hospitality industry, unintentionally, and that makes working here strange and uncomfortable. For those that don’t realize, when it comes to most things, Boston is a small city, when it comes to hospitality, Boston might as well be a town. When a handful of people own everything, they all know each other.

I’ve never intentionally wronged anyone I’ve worked for, but last year I went through a really dark moment of mental health and it really ruined my relationship with the owner of alcove, which inadvertently ruined my relationship with half of the restaurant owners in the city. I’ve tried to repair it, I’ve tried to talk to him, but he won’t have it. To me it’s a bit unfair to hold a grudge against someone who didn’t really wrong you, but just went through a dark time in life. If it was up to me I never would have had anxiety bad enough that I didn’t leave the house for 9 months, fuck I lost my life for those 9 months. I would have much rathered been behind his bar making drinks with my pals. I would have preferred spending time with him, letting him mentor me and grow me into someone who was great at all aspects of service and hospitality. I lost a year of my 20’s where I could have been growing and getting better at what I love. That’s not a choice.

Anyone who knows me knows that I love hospitality and working in restaurants. Fuck I might even love it too much, it may be unhealthy. Actually, it is unhealthy, but I don’t give a shit, it’s fucking amazing. It’s beautiful, it’s where I feel safe, it’s where I’ve felt my best, it’s where I’ve felt my worst. It’s where I’ve met some of my favorite people, and some past loves I’ll never forget. It’s where I’ve celebrated birthdays, and milestones in life, and professional and personal achievements for the last 11 years. The only thing I’d trade is the time I didn’t get to spend in a restaurant, everything else was amazing. Those 9 months all I wanted to do was work. When you go through something like that there’s a lot of stigmas that come with it. It’s essentially the work version of a no fly list.

I’ve been put on a list by people because of my mental health, which while in an ok place now, has been in some very fucking bad places. When I say ok I actually just mean I can leave the house, everything else about my mental health is not so hot at the moment.

I know I fucked up but I won’t do it again, unfortunately we live in the world of no second chances. So I know I fucked up and I can’t make it right. Today I did something I don’t think I’ve ever done before, I applied for jobs in New York City and Chicago. Maybe it’s time to move on from Boston, go some place else and start over.

I mean that literally, I’d love to move to New York and start at the most entry level position you can in a restaurant. A busser, or a food runner, or a barback. Maybe work back of house and start as a prep cook or a dishwasher. And just work until I get back to management, get lost in the hustle, a humble reminder of where I started. For me it’s a matter of deciding to lose it all and admit defeat, or begin all over again.

I was born to raise hell
I was born to take pills
I was born to cave in
I was born to fuck up
I was born, what a shame

I was born, what a shame.

J