Joey wakes up early feeling his head heavy. He'd been drinking heavily and his body was starting to recognise as much. It'd been a long time since he drank like this and it showed. The hangover took over his mind, body and soul. Long gone are the days where he'd wake up from a night of heavy drinking and partying and feel ready to start all over again. Age made his body more fragile to the aftereffects of high alcohol consumption.

Vague memories popped into his mind of the night before. Sitting on the balcony of his friend's apartment smoking marijuana while demolishing drink after drink. Speaking about love, life and the memories of their youth.

Though it was a wonderful evening, a thought was stuck to the back of Joey's mind. The one that got away. Though he never truly forgotten her, he'd managed to suppress her existence in his mind to nothing more than a passing thought once in a full moon, when he's feeling slightly down. I mean, he has someone. He is with someone. He holds that person dearly and wouldn't trade her for the world. However... The thought of the lost love brought feelings of sadness into his heart and mind because he knew; he'd trade everything to have that person back even though he knew it would only damage himself further from that relationship.

He got out of bed and made his way to the kitchen, hoping a warm cup of fresh coffee would cure his woes. The bare bulb in the kitchen illuminating his surroundings as he sat alone writing his diary entry of the night before. At least what he could remember. Cigarette smoke filled the kitchen space, creating a fog in the small area. Looking up at the bulb, his stressed hangover eyes watched intently as the smoke flowed through the light.

Was he really still in love with her? It'd been 5 damn years since they'd even seen each other. Held each other. Shared each others company...

Fuck.

He came to the same realisation he'd come to a thousand times before. He still loved her. Terrible feelings which he tried his hardest to bury away deep inside for them to eventually slip into the nothingness and finally be truly forgotten. He knew he was with someone else. He knew he should love who he was with. He doesn't want to lead someone he holds so dear on.

But he's still in love with the one that got away.

Hours have passed and he remains in the same position, with not more than a sentence in front of him. However much he feels like tears should fall down his cheeks, it seems time has made him incapable of crying. Insensitive the to the constant pain of losing someone he held so preciously in the past.

Was he afraid of being alone?

Was he a sick demented bastard which took pleasure in the constant notion in his mind that the feelings he holds towards his partner are fake and merely an image of what he imagines they should be?

Questions flew through his mind, becoming mere afterimages of the original thought. With such a heavy emotion in his heart, why would he be unable to cry?

He went to pull on his cigarette only to find it had burnt to ash. His time in a daze of thought had left the cigarette unappreciated in his hand. He dropped the cigarette half-hazardously into the ashtray getting ash all over the countertop. He went back to the bedroom and made straight for the oak wood bedside tables top drawer. He reached behind his socks and found his .38 Revolver.

He checked the ammunition. It was fully loaded. He removed one bullet. Five remaining.

With a spin of the cylinder, he held the gun to his head.

A tear dropped from his eye as he mentally spoke to each person he cared about. Telling them each, in detail, why he was taking the cowardly way out. He closed his eyes and let out a blood-curdling shout.

He pulled the trigger.

The hammer whacks the firing pin and... nothing... Against all odds, nothing... He'd be alive another miserable day.