Author's Note: This is super duper short. Sorry.

Day One-Hundred One: Love Is a Losing Game by Amy Winehouse

I couldn't help but feel bitter about how idly I sat as I let love go.

But to be fair, love is a losing game.

The optimistic part of me believes in love. But the pragmatic part of me cannot help but realize how wretched of a prospect it really is. And I blame it all on Toby fucking Cavanaugh.

I wish I had never fooled around with him; he came in like an inferno and left me scarred and burned. I was now royally fucked when it came to trusting men; that was the end of my belief in love.

But onto Toby Cavanaugh. I had known him forever, so I'm still surprised that something like this didn't happen when we were younger and even more hormonal.

We kind of fell out of touch and hadn't seen each other for a couple years while we were both in college. I saw him again at a casino. I was there with some friends and he was making a lot of money from poker. He liked to gamble and he was actually good. The feelings and attraction there were evident and blatant. Both of us waited until our feelings were clear to say anything to one-another.

As he was flirting with me one day, he said that he only liked to gamble when he was sure he could win. That made me fairly confident that he thought he could in me. Although it bothered me a bit at the moment, I ignored it. Love was blind, right? And love suffered since that was the price of…well, love, I guess. The memories still kind of haunt me as I think back to them. It was quite a summer that year. It felt like love. To me, at least.

But I guess that we were doomed from the start. I don't believe in God, nor do I believe in love, but I believe in fate. And if gods did exist, they were cackling at my encounters with fate. Fate didn't want us to be together. Fate meant for it all to happen.

When I found out about my daughter, I was nervous to tell him, but Fate already got in the way. Fate tore him away and set him up with someone new. So I kept quiet.

That was the final frame of love. I guess there was melodramatic music to follow, but now you know why I don't believe in love.

Her name is Lydia. She's four now and she's the light of my life. I'm sure she's the only person I could love. And it had nothing to do with Toby fucking Cavanaugh.

So I kind of cursed a lot. Oops.

LittleBittyAbby: I really hated middle school half the time, mostly because all the other kids were immature (insert bad word here). I personally like HS a lot better because you get more freedom and people kind of have their hormones in check (even though sometimes they're like having PDA in the hallways, but I can deal with that...just don't start making out or anything...)

Sarah:When did you get diagnosed with being anaemic? And do you have any other symptoms besides iron deficiency? Like, do you have restless leg syndrome/heart palpitations, etc? Oh, and are you an athlete? That doesn't really have anything to do with anaemia, I was just curious. I'm glad you liked it. I know you're an Ed fangirl.

tobyequalshottness:You'll get a gold star...eventually...and ha, Toby's face just gets covered with gold stars and now I'm picturing Keegan with like 10000 gold star stickers all over his face and I'm dying. I'm sorry.

sarahschneider2012: When this song first came out, I thought the exact same thing! Funny, right? Thanks for reviewing :)

AL3110: Um...I don't know what to say about that...and STOP STOP STOP STOP NO NO NO NO MY POOR EYES STOP FOR THE LOVE OF EVERYTHING HOLY AND PURE NO. I know that. I was changing it, though. Aside from that, Spencer wasn't snorting anything; she was injecting/smoking (I forget), and she was smoking cigarettes (or he was? I can't even remember; that's so sad) and breathing in the ashes which is SUPER DANGEROUS. They look like snowflakes to me. That was my interpretation.

AussieMizzie: That sounds torturous. But at least you had the aisle to yourself. I have cleisiophobia and a touch of agoraphobia and some other phobias, including, but not limited to: acarophobia, achulophobia, agateophobia, agliophobia, aichmophobia, autophobia, gelotophobia, merinthophobia, taphophobia, and a tiny bit of arithmophobia because really big numbers freak me out. Victorian Age? As in c. 1890's-1900's? Well...at least your boyfriend (ex) is not a jerk like my quasi-ex is, though I really don't consider him a boyfriend since it was kind of a one-off thing. I mean...we flirted for a while, but nothing actually mattered, like...I can't describe it. Ignore my rambling. Nope, haven't seen the movie.

Alright, well...*shrugs*

I think I'll be posting a theory on my Tumblr tomorrow or Saturday, but hopefully tomorrow because I think my munchkins are coming over on Saturday.

Anywhoozies, the next one-shot is going to be Perfect Stranger by Magnetic Man and Katy B but you should really listen to the cover by Marina and the Diamonds because it's pretty freakin amazing.

Thank you to the thirty something of you who actually read my story. I don't tell you enough how much I love you.

I would insert a picture here of Lana blowing you all a cute kiss, but I can't :( -Kayson