Lost my second job. I lasted a whole three months. I don't know whether to cry or scream. Or raise hell about it.
I keep dreaming that I've got my tattoos that I want so badly. I think I'll revisit that deal I made with Dad, seeing as he's never able to come home. (We made a deal a long time ago that he has to be present when I get my first tattoo.) I may possibly be out on my own if things keep going the way they are, and if that's the case, then I'd rather not have to answer to anyone about my decisions. The only reason I honor the deal we made is because it just gives me more time to work on the designs I want to see how many of them are actually worth getting. Well, that and I have great respect for my dad and for his wishes that I not do certain things. I understand where he's coming from but I am just dying here. I want to start working on my tattoos, like today. Too bad that I can't because I'm broke and I just lost my second fucking job that I had hoped would get me OUT of the fucking restaurant job. Looks like I'll be stuck there for another few months. I've already hit my six year mark, so what's another fucking few months? *screams and smashes something*