I slouched lazily in the room, one foot on the chair and the rest of my current attention aimed to my music, a simple yet secure solitude I reside momentarily. The door opens as a fellow worker comes in, it's her... You could take this two ways: it's her...the bitch I despise or: it's her...the one I can't get off my mind. If you answered with the second then congratulations you were correct and you win a moment of victory to think to yourself "fuck I'm good ."

Goes about her business sets down her things and checks herself in the mirror as most girls do . It hadn't been long since a particular incident about a week back , the day I reverted to being a retarded teenager, maybe I was always a teenager, but certainly not retarded, I never thought I could make that mistake, guess I was wrong.

The best way to pick her out of the bunch was probably her lips, always bright red with lipstick, a spectacular sight, gave her a good 12 positives on the hotness scale surely. Our eyes met and she caught me mid-stair, I hate it when I get caught. She quickly turned away and went out the door and didn't say a word. At that time the most appropriate thing I could think of saying was.

"Fuck."

It's hard to find a girl who's pretty and also has a nice personality, I mean sure no super model none of that plastic shit, she was genuine, it felt real when we were together, not another dream which I couldn't remember, but this was real, and at the time it really became an internal nightmare.

Sure people say "plenty of fish in the sea." but this was Perth it's a fucking desert, nowhere near the sea. I took a moment to look at myself in the mirror.

"How did you get here?" I asked "how did you get into this?"

I left them unanswered and washed my face and followed her steps out the door, it was going to be a long day.

At the end of that day I wanted to try and talk to her, reason with her, but she fled the moment the hand hit 6. I sank...thinking that this was so shit, that I'd never felt worse or so angry with myself for being so stupid and naive. Train ride home was always relaxing, today it was just depressing, the winter rain covered everything and a sad love song started playing with my music on shuffle.

"How fucking appropriate," I thought. "All I need to do now is fade to black."

But the fade never came, as much as I wish it could've, this was real and I had to endure it. Getting home and just slumping onto my bed had never felt better. So drained of energy and emotional strength, I closed my eyes and went into a serene state where all of this didn't happen.

The next working day I carried myself to work, dreading each minute closer to the start of the shift as I sat in the room, making a new playlist that didn't make me feel shit and trying not to think about it.

As the door opened I kept my head down, I dared not to be caught in her eyes again. Nothing was said and the person left. A sigh of relief timed itself right as I looked back up, back toward the mirror.

"Something so rare."

"How?"

I didn't talk for the rest of the day, and didn't look in any other direction than ahead and beyond. I departed, still feeling shit, until a hand reached and tugged my arm.

It was her... she smiled at me. I suppose at this moment man tears were appropriate but my pride and principle of self-composure had me on a choke-chain.

We walked down the city street, eyes never breaking gaze, hands held ever so tightly.

"I'm not letting go," I thought "I can't lose you again."

The sad thing about all this I suppose is that did lose her, but I never let go of her. Leaving all the things that made me sad behind, I was the happiest I could have ever hoped to be...but what was sad was that I now can only love her from a distance, as if I was trying to catch a star her heart was far from the possibility of coming back to mine.

Months later, not a lot changed. We started talking again and remained "friends" I cringe at the thought that I was bounded by that word, being put into the friend zone was probably the shittiest thing that could happen in such a situation.

Suffering from the dreadful symptoms of being hung up, I sought ways to move on and be rid my past, and all those feelings that came back like the re-opening of a deep wound.

As I tried to get out more and more, I began to realize that I didn't feel like messing around anymore, observing the fuckwits who I could predict we're playing two maybe three women at a time.

"Fucking scum," I thought to myself in silent rage. "I don't want to be like that."

Certainly not a credit to my gender, but it stuck out so clearly that it eventually became if not was already a symbol of men, and it sickened me.

Coming home from that night , as I progressed with each step, so did my understanding of how I was feeling, making myself a victim and finding something solid to blame for my misfortune, so I let it go.

More interactive than a month before, we talked regularly at work, an exchange of friendly banter and a cusp of laughter when we had time, I suppose I was somewhat happy with the status, as opposed to having nothing at all, gratitude, thats the word.
Even though we still talked and acknowledged one another as friends, a chain of memories never let go of those harmful feelings, and it sucked because I couldn't do anything about it, I couldn't help it, or more appropriately I didn't want to help it because I never wanted it to end.

It's certainly true when they say that you don't know what you have until you lose it. Painfully ironic to view it from a third person perspective. The days continued, an endless möbius I seemed to be trapped in, problems arisen at home didn't help either, it just enforced the fact that I was stuck between a rock and a hard place

A present day arises, another blinding sun followed by the scorching summer heat, not the best starter to a working day but I'll take it.

At this point things have gotten worse at home, hearts breaking, emotional fires raging across the house, I suppose the most unfair part though was getting caught in the middle and blamed for misfortune,I mean sure I believe I wasn't born with much luck , but that's because I never really needed it, fuck it , I was bound to get caught in between someday, but I decided to be ignorant and dissolve the possibility, didn't work out, but things change I guess, I suppose it was sign that maybe I needed to change too.

It's the jolly time of the year, the distinct smell of tinsel and the hordes of people moving like a school of fish in and out of stores. I barely manage to get down to my store without trading paint with other people.

A familiar scene in the back room, listening to music and just relaxing before I started, or enjoying the calm before the storm I would usually say, but no it wasn't just one storm it was more like over a hundred of them, each wave bigger than the next. I'm forced to come in early before a shift because of recent misfortunes I've come to the conclusion that public transport has it in for me, I so getting there on time or early was certainly a big 'fuck you' to the system.

As more familiar faces come and go I was ever vigilant of the one face that I not so much dreaded, but was afraid of because of the way they affected me. The status remains as friends, as far as she knows anyway, but I can't deny the strong feelings I have for her, the ones I can't let go. You might be thinking. " Man what a fucking sook, she's just a girl, get over it whatever." Sure it's fucking ridiculous even I think it's crazy to be hooked like this, but just like education, this love was something I was willing to pay for even if I didn't get anything in return. I was ready to fight tooth and nail for it, no matter the cost. I even started thinking about scenarios that were possible in terms of being a 'come back'. Was merely a waste, a pipe-dream at the moment.

At the wrong moment I let my guard down, she say next to me and scared the shit out of me with a simple.

"Hi."

Was not prepared at all, and I'm sure at the moment my other mind set would be quite disappointed, all that mental building just got decimated by "Hi" . Idiocy at its best it seemed. Would I survive this day?

A warm welcoming scent of pizza filled the room as I took my half-hour, before I could've enjoyed it I received a phone call. The content or the purpose behind this particular call was far from amusing, and not trying to be the victim, but what the fuck? At work ? Do I really need to hear or be apart of something so depressing?

I wasn't too stable, half-tempted to go home, but even then I wouldn't have any serenity, so I managed to find solace in my work, for the first time in a while I wish the day had gone a bit longer.

The end of day, sitting at the stop, should be here in about 34 minutes unless the bastards decided to meddle with them again. I looked at the tallest building in Perth, the Bank west tower, everything a shadow compared to it. At that moment I decided.

"There's nothing left for me here, no room for me anymore."

Leaving this place saddens me, and even now I desperately try to hold back the tears as every memory comes back to me, wave of overwhelming emotion, but I broke the chain and held onto two links, the one that held everyone I met and the other for her as a reminder that I had something real, that for a short moment, I was completely happy.

What was I to everyone? Did many people like me? Will they miss me? Not much of it matters, but as I take flight into these shattered skies I leave reminder to the sorrow that I'm leaving, Dallas James Sanchez will never die, he will simply be missing in action