Author's Note: I'm watching a show about middle-aged women doing pageants. What the hell am I doing with my life? Plus, I may have failed a Spanish test today. And it counts for 20% of my semester grade. And I'm Mexican.

Enthuse me with your comments, please, kind friends!

Day Ninety-Two: E.V.O.L by Marina and the Diamonds

Hanna had always warned her about smoking in bed.

Spencer had begun to run out of reasons to care. But as if she was silently soothing Hanna's worries.

She reached over the bed and snuffed out the cigarette. It was one of a few, all with pink lipstick stains on the ends, left haphazardly in the ashtray beside her bed.

She hated days like this. Nearly as much as she hated herself. She had just spent the whole day in bed. It was like she needed to rest more often. Like…she was making up for something. She needed to refill her energy. She didn't even know why.

But back to days like this. She hated these days. She would just lie in bed, smoke, have sex, and nothing else. Sure, that sounded like a dream. What else could you need? She, however, abhorred it. She couldn't tell when day was night or night was day or what hour it possibly was or if the sun was even out when she stayed in her boudoir all day.

But lately, she had been feeling this bitter, this wicked. And though she got bored with it at times, it was like her appetite for sex could not be fulfilled. She remembered how when she was studying psychology, one of the foundations of Freud's theories was that the urge for sex influenced a person's actions all the time. She found it a bit ridiculous and almost laughable at the time, but it seemed to make a lot of sense now. It was like she had an odd itch she couldn't scratch, not even if she tried-and she certainly tried.

After lying and trying to stimulate her dulling mind, she decided to get up and try and do something.

She walked into her adjoined bathroom and scrutinized herself in the mirror. She stared and looked at her hair in particular. She hated the color. Even when she was younger, she hated it. She wanted to be a blonde or even a redhead.

She wondered what he'd think of it.

Turning to the pair of shears on a silver platter, she had morbid thoughts. She almost let her id take control over her, but decided against it. She knew it would be a bloody, grotesque mess. She could only imagine how mutilated she could make herself before it was finally all over. She began to wonder who would find her.

But then she realized just how unfulfilling that would be. She wanted something a bit more exciting, like it was ripped from the pages of a book or a play.

Before she could act on any whims or think of something morose, the door to her bedroom opened. It was then that she realized just how dark her room was compared to the outside.

"What are you doing here?" she asked.

"Why am I always here?" he inquired.

She narrowed her eyes before walking back out to her bedroom. She sat on the bed next to him. "Do you want a real answer or the one that sounds prettier?"

They exchanged looks between each other. At first glance, this seemed like such an innocent conversation, but underneath the surface, there was such poison, such evil, and such corruption in it all.

She got up to get a drink and pour it for them both. After all, wine before liquor makes you sicker. And candy is dandy, but liquor is quicker.

She handed him a glass and watched him drink, taking a sip of him in the process. Her brown eyes gleamed with lust.

As soon as he pulled his lips away from the glass, she grabbed him by the shirt collar and kissed him. She could taste the liquor on his lips and it made her stomach twist in dangerous knots.

She grabbed the glass from his hand and placed it on her bedside table. As she pushed back on the bed, she morbidly thought of what it would be like to die like this, with her Romeo beside her; it was the very image of youth and a tragic ending. She was a sucker for a tragic love story.

The more that she thought of the tale of woe that was that of Juliet and her Romeo, she thought about how utterly sad and fucked up it really was. Juliet and Romeo were both just so lonely and they completely fucked up the idea of love.

Just like her and Toby. They were both lonely, they both wanted sex, and they were both corrupted with several evils—including, but not limited to alcohol and underlying trust issues.

And now, here they were. Sleeping with each other to try and feel something. It was so unbelievably fucked up.

Love is evil.

"Do you love me?" she inquired as she pulled him closer.

"I think I do."

Love was most certainly evil.

I don't remember if I like this one.

LittleBittyAbby:That show is kind of entertaining in the fact that the people on it are for the most part vapid and very, very shallow and don't seem that smart. Plus, they say the same words over and over and over again. You could have a SLAT drinking game that's just "take a sip every time someone says the word 'sex'" and you'd be drunk by the end of a show. The writing is pretty bad, but I guess it portrays the American Teenager pretty accurately. Or at least, most of the ones I know.

tobyequalshottness: Yeah, I can be so punny sometimes. This one was longer. I hope you liked it.

Sarah:It's alright. Innocent mistake. No worries :)

AL3110:I bet you liked this one. because Marina.

MilaMizz: AHA! You say pop! You Australalian. And I hope this lived up to your expectations.

Alright, so I had bio today, and I didn't die. Look. I'm alive. I survived. I think I passed.

The next song is one of my favourites. It's Songbird by Fleetwood Mac and for the record, it's intentionally vague so you can make up your own backstory. You know, like how teddy bears have blank expressions so kids can imagine their expressions.

And I've run out of weird facts no one cares about. That is all. -Kayson