Facebook memories reminded me a few days ago that Sia and I were eating dinner at Dada that night.

Big day for us. Big celebration of being the most amazing team ever, at my favorite restaurant that she quickly adopted as hers too. My Christmas gift to her, that feast. 

Facebook memories reminded me today that it’s the day I got shitcanned from my last full-time job.

I blame the job and the cunt in charge for ruining my friendship with Sia.

Sia tried. She really did. But I was so deflated. I was supposed to be a role model. I was supposed to have my shit together. I was supposed to lead us to greatness.

Instead she got crushed under the massive workload and ultimately worked herself into an early grave at age 31.

I wasn’t afraid I’d walk in to a pink slip today. (Perhaps more afraid that I wouldn’t? Just kidding. I know who’s reading this. Got to enjoy some humor where I can get it these days.)

Getting let go was one of those life-changing events that wasn’t really good for my nerves, my career or my friendships. It didn’t make me stronger. If anything, it gave me more anxiety than I already had.

It needed to happen. I can say that now. I still won’t send the bitch a thank-you card, as she was expecting when she said I would thank her someday.

It’s not like I will get that time … or that seniority … or that spark … or my friend … back.

The things you lose in exchange for the ability to funnel all your money into ever-rising rents, I tell you.

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