July 18, 2020

Saturday, 6:15pm

Haha! See, I told you I’ll be back in about a week! I kept my promise, so I hope you kept yours to review the recettes (I know you didn’t promise me anything, but let a guy dream, all right?)! Ahem. So, I have some good news, and some bad news. Which one do you wanna hear? Well, judging that you’re me, and I’m you… I’m guessing you want to hear the bad news first, okay!

Bad news is… You’re effectively unemployed! Hurrah! And no, before you panic, I did not get fired. I just handed in my resignation today and told everyone the truth about my condition. Now, before you get all pissy and throw a tantrum, hear me out, all right?

I ended up just telling everyone at work what was really going on and now I feel like a huge weight’s been thrown off my chest. For the past, seven, eight months? I tried my best to conceal the fact that I’m more forgetful than usual. Do you have any idea how difficult and draining that is? I can’t even count how many times I made an excuse whenever I forgot to take my phone back home with me or when I forgot to bring my nametag to work. 

Sure, people believe it for a while, then they get suspicious. It just doesn’t make sense that I keep losing track of my belongings seemingly almost everyday. Especially when I, the pâtissier, can’t even remember any technical terms, leaving me to mumble or say something incoherent to cover up the fact that I can’t remember. Why would a healthy person be so forgetful all of a sudden, you know? It’s weird.

Ha… I just didn’t want to do that anymore— the whole, lying thing. It’s tiring not just for me, but for everyone else. I wanted to be free from my burdens. To be free from all the stress and worry that ate me up all the time whenever I arrived at work. You would never be able to understand (or maybe you would, if you haven’t deteriorated too far yet) how fucking scary and nerve-wracking it is to even fathom making a mistake in the kitchen and having to explain the reason why. Heck, I’d rather get eaten by a tiger than to face the executive chef’s wrath. 

Anyways, I told everyone when we were on our break, eating an eton mess that I made. You should have seen the look on their faces. It was pretty amusing. It was quiet for a few minutes as the big boss stared at me, shellshocked. Everyone else also just gaped at me before nervously laughing at my announcement before some of them cried. I don’t blame them; I would’ve reacted the same if I had heard that my coworker had Alzheimers at 31… (not the crying part though, God no!)

But, the one good thing that came out of this was that now, I don’t have to live with a constant fear of messing up or that people would find out my ‘secret’. Except near my friends and folks… I just don’t have the heart to tell them yet. And, well, the only downside is… I’m out of a job. Sort of.

Now, this is where the ‘good’ news comes in. You, ready? 

When I told the big boss (that’s the executive chef, by the way) that I was planning on traveling to France (surprise!), he offered me a job at a local pâtisserie that a friend of his owns so… At least I won’t be out of a job for too long, hopefully. And not to worry, the boss told me he would let the owner know of my condition. I guess we’ll see if I actually get the job...?

I’m sure you can already guess why I’m going to France. Okay, let’s be real, you probably don’t since you most likely forgot all your memories by now, eh? … I’m going to go on an adventure to find love. I’m going to look for Alex and apologize to him for leaving him like that. 

I know it seems completely ridiculous and stupid. I know. However, unlike most people who will probably live to their 80’s or even 100’s, I don’t have that luxury. Sure, I could potentially still be alive by the time I’m 50 or even 60… But will that really be me? No, it probably won’t be. It will most likely just be a shell of who I was. And that’s what I’m afraid of.

I don’t want my limited life to be full of regret and sorrow. If I’m gonna live my life as an Alzheimer’s patient, I’m going to find my own damn happiness even with this dreaded disease. And no one is going to stop me. What more do I have to lose before every cherished memory of mine is stripped away from me?

So, whether or not you like it, I’m going to look for him. I’m going to find him before my next birthday! That’s my goal for now, at least. To find him before I turn 32. Wish me luck!

**NOTE: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.**