Dear Dairy,

That damn dog, I genuinely believe that it thinks its outside, the only thing more blind than him is his owner, I don’t think Miss Harper has pieced together yet that the reason her poor little pooch has stomach issues is because he helps himself to her food whenever she’s unaware, which is ALWAYS! The amount of times I’ve watched her stare confused at her plate while Samuel the greedy little SOB is munching whatever dry out of date “cake of the day” Sarah decides to throw out for the customers.

Sarah isn’t my boss, she’s worse she’s my boss’s wife she has absolutely no authority over me and yet she still does everything within her power to make work a living hell for me, which is made worse by the fact Mr Fleet my actual boss is surprisingly a decent guy, but that’s his problem he’s too nice and the café sure as shit wasn’t turning a profit, so now because of his inability to say no, I have to put up with Sarah. She believes that “the place would do well with having a firm hand at the helm” as she put it, which is just another way of saying she likes to come in and be a bitch on her off days from work, which guess what, is every day! Yep, that’s right diary she hasn’t worked a day in her life, but she knows what it takes to turn a business around right?

Now instead of working at a quietly struggling café that could generously be called a ghost town, I have to work at a café that is not just struggling just as much if not more but now has an increasingly bad reputation, yay me.

I know you're probably wondering why I’m writing again, already well don’t flatter yourself you have not made me feel better even slightly but I’m bored and there’s nothing better to do the more it looks I’ve tried the more likely Doc is to leave me alone. And that’s kinda the aim here get him off my back so things can go back to normal, funny until recently I’d have done anything, literally anything to make things not normal, I’m so sick of it, all of it everything, this job, this town, my shitty family and my shitty life.

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I guess I need to say what all of this is actually about, so I only got out of the hospital a week ago after being sectioned for a little over two weeks, that’s when I met Doc Dr Fred Jones, the best and brightest of Hartwood, this little patch of heaven myself and 276 other call home if you think that is a very specific number well then you’d be right, we are that boring that we actively keep count of the residents here, one in one out everything is kept track of, it is the stereotypical small town where only the truly depraved secrets remain hidden, for a time anyway.

Anyway, I got distracted you’ll have to get used to that, so I was in the hospital because of a poor decision in a moment of weakness and fun they wouldn’t let me leave, something about having been technically dead for about twenty seconds, and no before you even ask there was no bright light, no heavenly chimes or any of that. Though I think there was something just for a second, but even just thinking about that sends shivers down my spine, and Doc said to focus on happy thoughts so that one gets put firmly in the do not disturb under any circumstances box.

Yeah, so Doc after a lovely little stomach pump and a whole lot of vomit I was visited by the angle of mercy himself Dr Frank, who came with sweet promises of getting me out of that place as long as I played along with his stupid word association games weekly therapy sessions and of course you, his newest requirement for me to retain my freedom and not be pumped full of different pills the kind that you very really hear about people coming off of, as far as I’m concerned that’s a fate worse than death.

Damn thinking about all this is just pissing me off, and I can see Sarah glaring at me from the corner of my eye, like what’s her problem, Miss Harper and Steven are the only customers here and she’s still looking for her “missing malt loaf” like that’s any real loss Miss Harper, I can’t believe Steven even wanted that maybe his sense of taste decided to follow visions lead and bale while it still could, Is malt loaf even cake? Can we even legally advertise it as the cake of the day, personally if something has loaf in the name I wouldn’t want it at my next birthday party.

Catch you later Diary.