My Demons

I'm a piece of shit person, with a piece of shit life.

My name's Izzy, short for none-of-your-business. I reside in Toronto with my dad. We have a shitty little apartment together in a lower budget neighborhood, directly in the city. I had my own place for a brief time with my dumb musician ex-boyfriend, but obviously, I had to move back home when that ended. I have two year old dreadlocks, a statement to the world that I don't give a fuck, 'cause I'm white and stuff. Honestly, though, behind the tough exterior lies a sweet little hippie girl that likes to drink tea outside and admire nature. I hide it well by dressing in black, usually with some spikes and leather thrown in.

I wasn't always such a blunt person, believe it or not; It's been 19 years in the making. Life tends to happen, though, and you realize people aren't as nice as you'd like to pretend. Alcohol happens, boys and heartbreak happen, drugs and shitty friends happen... And bam. You get me.

I woke to the cold seeping in through my blankets, must have forgotten to shut the window again, I thought. It was just a dream, but I felt like it was telling me something. They were always telling me something. Fall was basically in full swing, which meant in a few weeks, it would be winter. Canada sucked when it came to weather, but at least it wasn't already snowing like it was in Alberta. Annoyed, I threw back the blankets and got up to shut the window. Maybe if I didn't sleep naked, I wouldn't be so cold, but even in the winter I just didn't like sleeping with clothes; they were too constricting.

As I got back in bed and covered myself up, my cat jumped up onto the bed. I had had her since I was 13. She was 5 and I had spoiled her to death ever since I got her, and now she sat at a good 18 pounds. She was a long haired tuxedo cat, and looked a lot fatter than she was, though she was still fat.

"Hey, boo," I said to her and snuggled up next to her.

She responded by plopping herself down next to me and purring, then licking my face. Spoiling her had paid off in the sense that she thought I was God, basically, and adored me. I adored her as well, though.

Waking up had been the hardest thing to do lately, because I really had nothing to live for anymore, it seemed; I was unemployed and graduated from high school, so my days consisted mostly of smoking weed and laying in bed (or sometimes on the couch, to spice things up) while browsing the internet with my laptop. I did want to go to college, but I could only apply for next September which was in a year. And I had been looking for jobs; I had had multiple job interviews, but unfortunately, no call backs.

No sense in being all depressed though, I thought. I took a moment to lay there and reflect before getting up to use the bathroom and make myself some tea. Getting back into bed, I grabbed my laptop - which had been on all night playing music because I couldn't stand the silence - sat my tea down and went about my usual business. First I passed the time by playing some Facebook games, then I blogged for a while and watched some Youtube videos, and eventually I watched a couple episodes of Cougar Town. 'Please, lord, give me something to live for' I prayed silently.

As the afternoon passed and I got bored of the internet, I decided to take a shower and get dressed. My thought process was that if you acted and pretended as if you had something to do, something would eventually present itself. It worked, too, it's called the law of attraction. Most people have heard of the documentary The Secret; well, that was basically my religion.

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"He's not answering me, he better be actually coming," my friend Rhiannon said to me.

Just as I had predicted, by pretending plans were already made, plans had been made. We had met up at the halfway point between our houses, walked to the liquor store to buy a 12 case of beer, and were now sitting on a hill in a cute little park waiting for her friend to answer her. The plan was that we were all going to her friend Dawson's to drink, but had to meet up with her other friend Zak first.

Rhiannon had a huge crush on Zak, but they were just hooking up while drunk. I didn't have the heart to tell her that he was probably just using her for sex.

"He's probably just being a girl, like taking forever to get dressed or something," I replied, trying to make it better.

"I don't know, he's not usually girly or anything," she said, then we heard her phone buzz, "It better be Zak or so help me God... Oh, it's Ellie. Shut up Ellie, I don't care,"

I felt myself make a slight face then quickly changed it, and asked "What's Ellie saying?"

Rhiannon rolled her eyes, "She's complaining that she has no one to hang out with. I really don't give a shit, 'cause she ditches me all the time. Now she knows how it feels,"

Rhiannon and Ellie were best friends, although hadn't been for very long, but lately they hadn't been getting along. I assumed it was probably because they just spent too much time together. It was common sense to me that anyone would eventually piss you off if you spent too much time with them. Everyone needs their alone time, or time with other people.

"Yeah... So, is she drinking with us?" I didn't really know how to respond, so I just changed the subject. It was my specialty.

"I'm not really sure, but to be honest, I don't really want her to," She answered.

I nodded my head while digging into my bag to grab a cigarette. Rhiannon and I had met at school. The first thing she said to me was that she liked my hair, and our entire first encounter was her complimenting me and telling me how pretty I was while also slipping in the fact that she was bisexual. It was about two years later, and we still had never hooked up. I was bisexual as well, and although Rhiannon was an attractive girl and actually my type, for some reason I just could never picture myself having sex with her.

As I lit my smoke, Rhiannon lit one of her own and we sat there in silence for a few minutes until her phone went off again, "Ok, we're going to meet Zak at Tim Hortons," she said after reading her text message and sending one back.

As we walked towards the Tim's, she went on and on about how cute Zak was. Honestly, I really didn't care, but I nodded along and pretended to be listening. I was really just hoping that there would be other cute boys who Rhiannon wasn't hooking up with there so that I could hook up with someone.

"Oh, there he is," she said and I looked up.

There stood before us a very tall and lanky guy with long brown, curly hair, dressed in all black, ripped up skinny jeans and a leather jacket even though it was a really warm summer day. He was actually good looking, too, which I hadn't expected since I didn't usually like the guys Rhiannon liked.

"Hi, I'm Izzy," I said to him, considering Rhiannon never actually introduced people.

"Hi, Izzy, how are you doing?" he said back, but was then interrupted by Rhiannon continuing to talk.

I suppose I wasn't all that important compared to her crush, but I understood; girls and their crushes.

"Daws' place is right there," she said, pointing at a house across the street.

"Wow, that was easy," I jokingly replied.

Dawson's place was a very small apartment in a sketchy part of town, and it looked like a house on the outside. It was a one bedroom, and filled with empty beer and liquor bottles. Rhiannon had warned me not to take my shoes off because the floors were sticky with dried alcohol. His house was the designated party house.

When we first got there, he was home alone, so it ended up just being the four of us for a little while. Neither Dawson or Zak talked to me at all, or even really acknowledged my presence. I was glad Rhiannon was there, because I was actually a shy person, though I tried to hide it as best as I could.

As soon as I saw Dawson and started listening to him talk, I knew we would end up having sex. I always thought I had somewhat of a sixth sense, if you will, or maybe I was just a huge player. Either way, I always got what I wanted, and I wanted him. He had long, dirty blond hair and tattoos on both of his arms, played guitar and had that personality that I loved so much; the outgoing, loud, here-I-am sort of one.

As the night progressed, more and more people started showing up, and as I got more and more drunk, my shyness started to vanish. I drank quite a bit that night, as did everyone else. At the time, it didn't really occur to me that I had a drinking problem, but for that past year I had been drinking heavily almost every single day. As the sun went down, more and more people started showing up and before you knew it there was a full blown party happening. We ended up all hanging around outside on the lawn since it was so beautiful out, and we all knew winter was just around the corner.

When I looked around me, all I saw was a bunch of metal-heads and punks, all dressed in leather, band shirts and skinny jeans. I only recognized one or two people other than Rhiannon. I was wearing a fedora hat that had been passed around, and sitting on the grass in a circle with Rhiannon, Ellie, Dawson, Zak, and some other people I didn't know.

"You look sexy in my hat," Dawson said, those being pretty much his first words to me.

He had been talking to basically everyone except me up until that point, though he would keep glancing over at me. He came off as shy, to be honest, and I thought it was cute.

I looked over at him and smirked, "Thank you, I know," I said, tipping the hat slightly and winking.

He grinned, enjoying my response, but Rhiannon butted in, "She always looks sexy,"

It was funny to me how alcohol opened people up so much, maybe too much. Before Paul (my dumb, musician ex-boyfriend) I hadn't really been that much of a drinker. I wasn't straight edge in the least, but drinking generally only happened once in a while. Our entire relationship had consisted of going out and getting drunk together; it was what had brought us together and what had broken us up.

I smiled at Rhiannon, "You're sexy too,"

"Aw, thank you," she blushed, "I would so fuck you,"

"Yeah, well, you could have that one time you know, but you were too drunk," I reminded her jokingly.

"I know! It sucks," she looked to Dawson who was listening to our conversation, "I was so fucking drunk on her birthday, I actually told her dad that I was going to fuck his daughter, and he was totally cool with it. I love her dad,"

"Yeah, I even offered to shower with her because she said she was too dirty, but she said no," I laughed.

"Because I was too drunk! The room was spinning and all I could do was lay there. Didn't you end up going to the bar? I don't even remember you leaving,"

"Yeah, I did. I tucked you in and then left," Our story seemed to interest him, as it usually did for most straight guys.

"Can I kiss you?" Rhiannon asked me, obviously intoxicated.

"Of course!" I smiled as I got closer.

She leaned in and we locked lips. There was no tongue involved, but we did put on a little show for everyone who was watching. Pulling away, I caught the slightly pinker tone on her cheeks and smirked. Ellie was sitting on the other side of me with a jealous look on her face, so I leaned in and kissed her as well. Not to my surprise, she kissed me back.

"Can I join the make out party?" Dawson asked me.

"Yeah sure, but you have to come here because I'm too lazy to get up," I motioned for him to come sit beside me.

"I don't wanna get up," he replied.

"Me neither. Guess we're not kissing," I giggled, carrying on conversation with Rhiannon.

The more I drank, the fuzzier things got. That was the cycle I had been in for so long; drink to forget. The less I remembered, the happier I was. I didn't want to remember, I didn't want to think. With everything going on around me, it was hard to get stuck in my head, which was a good thing. I had a bad habit of getting stuck inside my head and not being able to get out.

I didn't remember most of the night after that, just bits and pieces. It was like trying to figure out a puzzle. One minute I was outside with my arm around Dawson, chatting away, and next minute we were in his bed frantically trying to get our clothes off. I didn't care about morals, I didn't care about what anyone thought; frankly, I didn't care about myself. All I wanted was to forget.

I remembered talking to him for what seemed like hours, about God knows what. And I do remember him being a good listener, as well, or maybe he just really wanted to sleep with me. But it didn't happen, we just laid in his bed naked, talking, and then when he wanted to go back out and enjoy the party I snuck out and walked home without saying goodbye.

I woke up the next morning still fully clothed, wearing an unfamiliar shirt. My head pounded a little, though I drank so much that hangovers were pretty routine for me. The shirt smelled like a man's shirt, and I assumed it belonged to Dawson. I caught myself smiling at the thought of him, then quickly changed my thought process to something else.

After Paul and I had broken up, he instantly had a new girlfriend. I had been seriously in love with the guy, so it tore me apart to know he could've moved on so quickly. I knew what I was doing was wrong, but I only wanted Dawson to prove a point to Paul - he could move on, well so could I. I also knew Paul probably didn't even care, but I couldn't help it; I was addicted to 'the game'. There were a lot of different addictions out there, and some people thought I just really liked sex, but it had nothing to do with sex. It was about the chase, I thrived off of head games. At least I admitted it, though, right?

Sitting up, I quickly searched around the room for a glass of water. I was a forgetful person, and it wasn't uncommon for random glasses of water to be sitting on my dresser or the floor. This time, however, there wasn't.

"Urg," I moaned, rubbing my eyes and stretching, preparing myself to get up and deal with the rest of the day. It was Saturday, so it was time to nurse myself before heading out for round 2 that night.