My life started to unravel at a most alarming rate.

The interior of Ludlow Perdue Psychiatric Institute, otherwise known as the nut house, is for the most part a dark and lonely place. Oh, sure, there's plenty of voices to be heard at all hours of the night. But, disembodied voices are no friend of mine. Particularly if the voice is coming from inside my own head.

Not that it matters, or that it's any of your fucking business, but my name is Donner. Yeah, as in the Donner Party. Only, I never ate anyone. Well, at least not in the cannibalistic sense. You may be asking yourself, "What the hell kind of name is Donner?" And, to that I would reply, "Fuck you."

I moved from my hometown of Kitchener, which is just outside of Toronto a few years ago. Packed up and moved all the way out west to Vancouver with the hopes of becoming a star. I don't know it seemed like a good idea at the time. And, yes, I am Canadian. Though I make a conscious effort to avoid saying things such as 'eh' or 'aboot'. However there is something hot about a girl who pronounces it 'aboot'.

I moved in with my stoner friend Az, his girlfriend Cassidy, and their friend Meg. Meg was also from the Toronto area, though we'd never met before. Somehow or another Cassidy became my girlfriend before it was all over with. Az didn't seem to mind. Either he didn't know or he didn't care. Regardless, I know they were still screwing around. I never actually caught them, but there was just something about the way they were always hanging off of each other. I really could have cared less. Cassidy was my girlfriend for the pure and simple fact that she was there. Granted, I got off on her aggressive bitchiness. But, I slept with Meg also. She was like the polar opposite of Cassidy. Sweet, soft spoken, very inhibited… but that may've been due to the fact that she was only fifteen. As far as I know, she had only dated Ethan before… well, I can't say dated me… before she was with me. Cassidy on the other hand had been around and done things most people have only read about in books. My dalliances with Meg pretty much came to an end when my friend Jake from back east moved in. She fell in love with that pretty boy jock for some reason. I didn't care. Cassidy or Meg, when it came down to it was all the same to me. Hell, I would've fucked Az had he offered. All I cared about was getting high and watching tv.

Az, myself, and his friend John started a band. It was really really; I mean just totally fucking horrible. We were probably about the worst band in all of Canada, and that's saying a lot. Despite our stories to the contrary, we were never almost signed to a label. We couldn't even give our tapes away. It was fun while it lasted though. Sort of.

Az and I would work at the hot dog stand all day, get our $60 and go spend it on beer at a party that not only did our band play for free, but we also had to pay to get in the door. Sometimes we even had to pay to play. But, for a few hours we were rock stars in our own minds because a bunch of drunken kids would cheer. Thinking back, maybe the cheers were because we had stopped playing.

All five of us, which was me, Az, Cassidy, Meg, and Jake, only lived all together for a few months shy of a year. But, I swear, it felt like a fucking millennia. By the time Jake moved in we were completely dependent on welfare checks to support ourselves and our habits. The band was non existent. Az and John weren't on speaking terms, not that John talked very much to begin with. And, we'd all become old pros in the fine art of shoplifting. Incidentally, before Jake had even moved in, I had already borrowed $600 of the $720 that I would come to owe my little sister Sarah. In fact, I still owe her that money to this very day, which is probably why she doesn't talk to me anymore. Well, that added onto the other morally reprehensible act I had committed when I trekked my sorry ass back to Kitchener to ask her for the money in the first place. That, however, is between me and Sarah. Definitely not between me and you.

I even resorted to selling my ass a few times. Nothing says luvin' quite like some old coot reeking of whiskey fucking you in a very uncomfortable place. But, my occasional discomfort kept our electricity on. Nobody asked where I got the extra money. I never asked where they got theirs on the rare occasions that those lazy fucks chipped in anything extra. Some things you do you just don't share with your friends. I don't have any friends now. No enemies either. Unless you would count myself as an enemy. And, I sure as shit would. My arms pay dearly for my current self-loathing. But, that little detail is none of your fucking business. None of this is, really.