Hi this is Izzy with a fic funnily enough about Izzy. It more or less explains why she's on drugs and drinks. It's depressing and may be hard to read. I cried writing it because so much of my own personality slips into this. There is only a sort of play on a Christian Bible story. I'm past caring about flames, I use them to light the candles that I pour all over Mr Tre Cool …hehe…
Enjoy
My MemoirsHi diary,
I guess I've found a reason to start believing in humanity again. The reason? The mysterious girl who pulled me out of the cold, wet gutter and brought me back into the warmth. She's called Kano and ther's this 'spark' that tells me we'll be friends.
But how did I come to be in the gutter?
Maybe it started when kaasan had the little stillborn girl. I never did get to be the big sister. I would stay the baby. Maybe if she'd lived then I could've just been me.
Izzy. Not Ishimu Murasaki Imo.
I guess having a corporate lawyer tousan, reknowned archeologist kaasan and Ivy League accepted brother put an unspoken pressure on your shoulders.
Especially when you don't fit in.
When you're the'goth', the 'mosher', the 'punk', the 'freak'. Maybe that's when shattered mirrors, broken glass and rusty razors become your friends. When alcohol is your water, cigarettes or weed your oxygen and pills your Holy Manna.
Because they understand when no one else does.
Apart from Nine Inch Nails. They must if they wrote 'Hurt'. What a song it sums up my whole messy existence. I'm one of the cigarettes I smoke that needs to be stubbed out.
Yes, my piercings, blue hair, dreadlocks, tattoos and baggy clothes – maybe my parents were right to leave me in Russia.
Maybe they thought I'd drink myself to death.
Ra knows I've tried.
But maybe Kano understands, but how she? Does she know what it's like to have your flesh and blood not give a damn.
If only she knew what I'm like. But maybe if I try hard, then she'll accept me. When I look into her eyes I saw the same thing I see when I look into the mirror.
A hollowness that comes from somewhere deeper than a heart, so deep that it's not human.
But maybe it's time to stop writing.
Perhaps I should finally move on.
Is this a sign Isis, an answer to my cry for help?
I need to go back to my flat and get changed…I'm leaving soon…I'm going home…
#Close your eyes at night
And dream a little dream of me#
No one remembers the dark stars…The sinful angels…
Only the broken do…
Izzy.
Ok, hope that cleared stuff up for you Hazel-Beka, Izzy's past gets explained slightly more later, but she is kinda complex.
PS anyone spot the Brand New adaption in the first paragraph?
