For the record...

Eight months… Eight months is all it takes to look back and realize that you’re nowhere near being that person you were back then. Everything, as if shaken up in a giant snow globe swished, swirled, and settled down to reveal something/someone seemingly equal yet (if you were to know each speck of white from the pre-shaken You) there would be no denying that what is left is an entirely new person.
And for what? Morals? A boy? A desperate attempt to rectify a poor one-night decision which only ended in more questions about what you truly believed in, irreparably chiseling a new identity… a new person... a new me.  So much for no baking until I magically found a ring on digit number 4!
The snow globe’s new version of me reveals a sad and lonely bakery revolving around different stale and unsavory pastries and one single Cupcake which tastes delicious yet refuses to claim the baker as his…