There's no lack of people in the city of Midgar, but my favorite is that bartender.
She shows me absolutely no respect. She treats me as if I'm some sort of down-and-out beggar in the slums. But we're both aware that I am not even close to being poverty-stricken. Turks are far from being destitute, at least financially. Still, she treats me like some kind of commoner. Like I'm trash. The nerve of that woman.
Tifa Lockhart. Her eyes are a glittering, rich brown – almost red like. Dark brown hair falls down past her waist. The feminity of her body is one of her most notable traits. A black miniskirt highlights her long legs. A short shirt always hugged her large bosom perfectly and exposed her thin waist. She had the body of a goddess.
Despite her gorgeousness, she is still just an unexceptional bartender at an unimpressive bar in the slums of Midgar. So how the fuck does she make me feel as if I'm not worthy of talking to her? Outside of the bar, she won't even give me the time of day. She'll only talk to me if I buy a drink – and I don't even like alcohol.
When I force myself to enter the 7th Heaven bar to pour cheap liquor down my throat, it's only so that I can be an unnoticed and unappreciated presence on one of the flimsy bar stools. Tifa ignores me. And when she has to speak to me, the condescending tone of her voice is only overshadowed by her obvious disdain. It boggles my mind – how can Tifa show me so much hate, when she's the only reason I visit the slums. Part of me likes to hope that maybe she's just angry with her life because she's no stranger to the struggles of life.
But in all actuality, she's just a bitch. And she hates me. And for whatever sick, twisted reason – it tugs at my emotionally fucked up heart strings.
I want to be around Tifa so much. I try to see her every day. Sometimes I even feel privileged to be the one standing outside of the bar at night, watching her from the distant shadows. Many people would label my actions as 'stalking', but that's such a strong word. I prefer words like curiosity or love. I have no real plans to ambush or pursue her. The only reason I stealthily follow Tifa home is because I have this unwavering urge to be in her presence - constantly.
And maybe I walk by her apartment occasionally, but it's only a few times each night. I'm only checking up on her to see if she's okay. There's a plethora of women in this city, but Tifa was born straight from my dreams. See, in my mind it's as if she can be everything that I need in my life. And I need to protect her. Without her knowing. From a distance.
My biggest fear is that one day Tifa will catch me watching her. Maybe she'd notice me pacing outside of her apartment – and smile, wave to me, and ask me to come upstairs. But even in my delusional mind, I realize that is a very unlikely outcome. If Tifa caught me watching her, she'd more than likely be fed up with me and threaten me. But at least that would be a reaction from her – I just want her to react. Feel something for me. Just acknowledge me. Show me a little attention. Notice my absence when I can't come around.
When did fantasy override logic? Rationality and reality are fading. Clearly, I'm losing my sanity.