July 28, 2020

Tuesday, 12:30 am (?)

Hey. Back to another diary entry, I guess. Or… what am I saying? Let me start over.

Ahem. I’m back with another diary entry, I think this is entry #9? Anywho. If you ever get to travel on Aire France, you gotta try their cheesecake. It’s freaking delicious! Better than— okay, not better than mine, but… Better than what you can get in New York. 

You know how they say New York has the best pizza and cheesecakes? Pizza, yes— God yes. Cheesecake… I dunno. American cheesecake is way too rich for my taste. I prefer this one, it’s light and airy with just a hint of sweetness that comes from the honey... Absolutely divine!

Er… I keep going off tangent. Let’s get back on track, shall we?

I’m on my way to France at the moment and am writing this diary entry while everyone around me is fast asleep. Why am I not asleep, you ask? Hmm. I don’t know, I guess I just have a lot on my mind. 

Who am I kidding? Of course I know why.

This is more nerve-wracking than I originally anticipated… and I’m starting to regret my decision to travel all the way to France just to see him again. I’m such an idiot. I don’t even have the faintest idea of where to begin my search for Alex. It’s been eight years; what if he’s not in France anymore? What if he relocated back to Smolensk? Or… I don’t know, London? A lot of patissiers usually head over to London after finishing apprenticeships… Shit. Why didn’t I think of all of this beforehand? I thought I had it all figured it out.

Ugh… Damnit. I’m freaking myself out. Whew. Deep breaths always work, right? ‘Cause it ain’t working right now and I need, like a ventilator (is that what it’s called? The thing they put in your mouths in medical dramas?) or an oxygen mask to breathe properly.  

My heart keeps hammering in my chest and I don’t know how to calm myself. Why am I so scared to see him again? I thought I was going to go insane if I didn’t see him one last time before I forgot everything… So, why? Am I just scared that he’ll see what I’ve become? A lousy chef who can’t even remember his own recipe and quit his job out of fear of being ostracized? … Or… What if he’s already moved on and I’m the only one pining over our relationship that I ended? 

Shit. Now the page is all blotchy! Ugh, I hope no one sees me crying right now, ‘cause it’s fucking embarrassing!

… You know what? Whatever. I can’t turn back the plane; I’m just going to have to stick with my plan. I’m not a wuss, that’s not how my folks raised me! I even travelled all the way to France from Los Angeles without knowing anything about the culture… All because I wanted to eat and make cakes! I got this. I know I got this. Whatever happens, happens! Hwaiting! 

Okay, that was dumb, ignore that, alright? IGNORE IT!

I’ll write more once I settle in at my new place that I’ll be staying at for the next nine months or so. There won’t be any recipes today. I’m too mentally exhausted to write more than this.

**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.**