These Demons

Chapter Nine

Walking through the streets of Los Angeles with my hood hiding my way too tall figure as much as possible, I'm absolutely clueless where I should go.
I can't return home because I'd either binge there or end up on my porch overthinking, but what other places are there?
I don't want to meet any of my so-called friends, my brain feels so mushy and dead that going to the studio to wrap up the rest of the work that's left with picking the album cover art and all that would be pointless, my insecurities and panic won't let me go to any stores regardless of what they offer there because I know that I'll manage to freak out somehow, and I've grown to know this city way too well over the last years to have something interesting left to spend my time discovering.
Everything ends up looking like the same dull monochrome still image once you're used to it.
Newbies freak out when they get so see Hollywood, Beverly Hills and the famous downtown areas with all the crowded overpriced tourist attractions for the first time, but after passing by on a regular basis for years, I don't really notice any of that anymore.
The LA spirit with all its celebrities, history, trends and obsessions can't reach me through my numbness.

While I wander around like a lost puppy, I receive calls and text messages nonstop, but don't answer them to refuse to tell anyone where I am.
What I'm doing right now is not entirely clear, but I damn sure know I don't need to explain it or, even worse, have someone join me.
There's just one thing that keeps bugging me: I can't stop letting Zoe cross my mind. She's a horribly annoying person and I hate to see her, but for some reason, I can't take my thoughts off her either.
How dare she accuse me of being sick, though!
It's probably for the best that she's not with me because she's just like all the others, constantly invading my privacy, trying to see through me, figuring me out and accusing me of the most ridiculous things to make themselves feel superior.
I'm not fucking anorexic, for god's sake! Have they all even looked at me?
Anorexics represent skeletons that don't seem to know what food is, and I look like I just had a bunch of cheeseburgers at McDonald's.
It's absolutely impossible for someone like me to have such a disorder.
Besides, when you're sick, shouldn't you really be sick? Like, behave like a crazy person or have a body with terrible health?
None of that applies to me, I assure myself. I can't be sick. I'm putting myself through hell right now, yes, and it makes me depressed, but it all has a purpose.
I'm not starving to ruin and kill myself- I have a goal I'm aiming for.
All I want is to be confident and happy with myself again, and what's sick about that? They just don't know what it's like to be me and what I'm going through, but that doesn't matter to me.
I know I'm doing the right thing for myself, and they don't need to understand. Zoe doesn't need to understand.

Her dark eyes, a deep mystery impossible to solve.
Her long hair, so strong and shiny.
Her flawless skin, warm and smooth on mine.
Her pink lips I'd love to-

Hell, no! I mentally slap myself and widen my eyes in shock at my thoughts.
What the hell is wrong with me?
Maybe they're all right and I really am crazy, because this sure isn't normal. What got into me that made me think this kind of stuff? Is the lack of nutrients I need to lose weight killing my brain?

I sigh, beyond tired of my own bullshit, and plug in my earbuds to distract myself by turning on the Misfits, but of course the shuffle function picks Vampire Girl.

Take my heart, take my hand
And I'll go with you I swear
Yours tonight, for all time
I'll be right there by your side

Fucking Spotify. American Psycho right at the top, but it has to jam the love track down my throat.
Everything drives me nuts. When did I turn into such an angry person?

**I'm sorry for this being a filler chapter**