Wish you were here.

Squall took a long swig from the slowly emptying bottle of liquor, which he turned to, to wash away the pain he never thought he would have to endure again. Pale, dark circles sat just under his eyes. His coarse hands were riddled with scars, the product of a violent career.

So, so you think you can tell
Heaven from Hell,
Blue skies from pain.

His life was a swirling torrent of misery. Every moment was a moment he despised. But it wasn't always like this, only since she left him. He always referred to her as "she" because he hated to speak her name. She never even offered an explanation as to why she did what she did. All she left behind was a few possessions, her dog, and what remains of his miserable life.

Can you tell a green field
From a cold steel rail?
A smile from a veil?
Do you think you can tell?

Squall leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes and going to take another drink, before realizing the bottle was empty. With no emotion at all, Squall flung the bottle against the wall with all his strength. The bottle shattered, as the pieces flew everywhere, causing a horrible racket. Muffled curses could be heard on the other side, that of his neighbor. Saying that Squall's sixth story apartment was small would be an understatement. It was about the size of his old single dorm at the garden.

Did they get you to trade
Your heroes for ghosts?
Hot ashes for trees?
Hot air for a cool breeze?

Cold comfort for change?
And did you exchange
A walk on part in the war
For a lead role in a cage?

Sitting back down in his original spot, Squall took another drink from the bottle he had just opened. He missed her, everything about her. Her voice… Her smile… Without her he was nothing. He was doomed to a lonely life.

How I wish, how I wish you were here.
We're just two lost souls
Swimming in a fish bowl,

It was getting late, and Squall knew he needed to sleep. He had to work tomorrow. It wasn't a hard job, nor did it pay well, but it put food on the table… Squall worked as a bouncer for one of the small clubs downtown. He wouldn't be able to sleep by himself, and so he would need assistance. Quietly raising the bottle he was just holding, Squall muttered a few words.

"To another lonely day." He said, just before he chugged the remains of the bottle. It got halfway empty, and Squall began to get dizzy. By the time it was almost empty, his vision was failing. As he drank the last bit in the bottle, he bid farewell to consciousness, as he blacked out.

Year after year,
Running over the same old ground.
What have we found?
The same old fears.
Wish you were here.