Restaurant Rats … thick as thieves and twice as cutthroat as any gang I will ever truly know. I chose to give the better part of my life to the very culture that abused the hell out of me … and when they broke me … they left me by the roadside bleeding and scarred beyond recognition. I chose them because they chose me first. They tempted me with a deep loyalty and friendship … then, stabbed me in the back with their two sided tongues and animalistic instinct. They lied to me … and, I believed them .. I believed them because I was without family .. without anyone … and, I needed to believe that a group could love me … could care whether I lived or died.
I came into the world within a broken cult led by my Mother and torn away from the only Man who will ever truly love me … my Father. I was abused … I was neglected … and, I was broken over and over again … desperately searching for a shield for my back-stabbing years as an adolescent. I prayed to die … I prayed to become numb. My prayers were not answered.
So … they found me … broken … and offered another kind of life … they called themselves “The Hospitality Industry.” I gave them my all … constantly choosing to prove my worth by doing it harder .. by doing it stronger than the others … and wanting to look as useful as the men in the industry …. for they were the kings … they could endure more then the petty “females” that cried sometimes when they had no real trigger … or, occasionally fought with a misunderstood passion in full support of allegiance to them. I needed them to see me as someone special … someone who was just as good if not better than the “males” of the group. I “sucked it up” when I felt my dignity being peeled away from my thick exterior .. only to get thicker with regrowth. I pushed to be respected … just to be torn down without a jury or trial with just a second of a whisper from a slanderous vicious tongue. I held a determined form in my stance to transcend those that walked before me and to break any notion that I was unworthy of any role I pursued.
Then … they broke me. They stole my body for meandering whims …. they pushed me into casts that can not heal and pressed upon me the lack of importance my life long contribution to them would ever be. And … when I lost my usefulness to them … they pushed me onto the curb and kicked my failed body in the gut. They ripped my soul out and buried any name I dedicated to the goodness of their business. They left me to rot.
This is the life I chose … because they chose me first … and I desperately needed someone to choose me.