Hi! SO... I've been thinking, and I might give Bianca(or Alaska) an advice type thing. And that's gonna be separate from this story. BUT, I want you people to come up with some general questions, or advice questions(though Alaska would probably mess up your life more...), and you can send her stuff too. So, for these a few weeks(and I'll accept late ones), you can send questions for Alaska through PM or review. It probably won't go up until after this story's over... so yeah... That cool?

You know what's worse than ripping you eyeballs out and putting them in a pizza oven? Living with America. I mean, it's not that he's a bad person, he's just annoying as hell. No, he's even worse than that, he's as annoying as The Marvelous Breadfish. Worse, Annoying Orange.

And I know that I should at least try to be nice, but c'mon, it's in my fuckin' nature to be bitter. Besides my instinct, he just... He's amazingly stupid, and lazy, and naïve. These are not good days for me. Why can't he be like Canada? He's already handsome. I mean, not that I think he's handsome. Um... He's just... Not painful to look at. NOT THAT I LOOK AT HIM THAT MUCH! I just mean-GAH! Moving on...

Anyway, all he'd really have to do is just be less... America. Then, I'd consider becoming a state. He'd still be revolting. Just, less revolting. But, instead of just listing the negatives, I have to look at the positive(that's what they told me in therapy).

First off, America has a pretty good taste in music. I mean, besides the fact that he doesn't have any Madonna or Simple Minds, or any eighties music for that matter, he's got a good ear. We bonded over Message in a Bottle by The Police the other day. That and pretty much everything else by them, like Walking on the Moon, and it made me hate him less. Only, like, a little bit less though.

Then there's this really cute thing he does. And I don't think it's cute, I just think it's... Cute. Don't judge me. I'll shoot you. Anyway, I noticed that every morning, he'll try to smooth that weird looking curl(Nantucket, as he calls it) down, but it just sticks right back up in the end. It's adorable. Shut up. Stop laughing. It's not fucking funny.

But either way, I hate him more than I like him. Then again, hate does run through my veins 24/7. If I were a nicer person I'd like him. But I'm not. So I don't like him. He doesn't need that ego of his to get bigger.

There are some nights that he's less annoying. Especially when there's a thunderstorm. For some reason, he just gets quiet, and sits by the window, just watching. That's a weird hobby to have, if you're something-yes, I mean something- like America. Maybe it means something to him. I'll venture into that someday, but not today. I hate him too much today.

I wake up to the smell of coffee and bacon, America nudging me with a spatula. "Hey!" he said loudly. He wasn't wearing his glasses. He looked so different. "Want some bacon?" The way he says bacon makes me not want to say yes. Involuntarily, I nod my head yes.

I don't even know what happened next. All I knew was I was sitting in America's car. Oh my God! Did he drug me? It's official! HE'S FUCKING INSANE! I knew it, I knew it. I should've shot him. Shit. Where the fuck is he even taking me?! And how did I get dressed?! What the fucking fuck is this?!

As soon as I realize what might be going on, I grope myself for my gun. I need to shoot this bitch before this gets too insane, I thought. Now hyperventilating, I shrieked,"RIGHT NOW! TELL ME WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON! AND WHERE IS MY GUN?!" Even though my voice is so strong, I'm about to cry on the inside. My gun, the picture of my mom and dad. I need them.

"Dude, dude, calm down!" America said slowly. "Your bag is right there! And-" I glare at him plainly. "Roll down the window," I say, anger boiling in my chest. "Roll down the window, and pull over." With a groan, he obliges. I take my seatbelt off and lean out if the window. "HE'S RAPING ME!"