(no subject)
Been open a week and it's like we never fucking closed. Loyal patrons is the name of the game and we fucking won it. Can't fucking believe it.
No, I can, I completely fucking can. After all. Who knows what makes a good fucking bar better than a fucking bartender?
I just feel so fucking old and tired. I feel fifty instead of twenty-four. I'm fucking tired and I'm not even thirty.
FUCK YOU, DEATH EATERS.
Whatever, El and I are great (or good enough, I dunno, something is off), Susie's made it to a year and Anthony's gonna turn two soon and my bar is up and running, I have nothing to complain about.
Bones family might want to avoid mum since I might've told her I sold the bar.
April Fool's, mates.