Just a Freak

Mr. Geiger.

That cheating bastard.

Wife.

A fucking wife.

How dare he?

I was so blinded by anger I ran right out of the room.

It was Extra Help.

His wife.

Damn her.

I guess I'm being childish.

I haven't gotten many crushes in my lifetime.

Out of them all, Mr. Geiger seemed the most plausible.

I mean, Sid Vicious and Kurt Cobain are dead meat.

A relationship with a corpse is just sick, even by my standards.

But I want Mr. Geiger.

I want him bad, you know?

I yelled at Mom and Nana when I got home.

Dad called and I yelled at him.

Caleb called me and I yelled at him.

That I felt bad about.

Caleb's my little doll.

I really did feel bad about yelling at him.

Knowing K, he's probably crying his sad, emerald little eyes out in his bathroom.

So I just went up in my room and listened to music.

I made Cartman out of clay.

He was lopsided.

I flung him against the wall.

Stupid, fat Cartman.

Look at me.

Taking my anger out on adult cartoon characters.

Pathetic.

Because I am pathetic.

I'm pathetic because I had a crush on my thirty-something-year-old teacher.

I guess him being married was for the best.

Bad things could've happened.

If we really did end up together, you know?

People don't think adult/teenager relationships are right.

I mean, what if you're like sixteen and have a nineteen year old boyfriend?

What's so bad about that?

It's only, like, three years.

I don't get it.

A twenty year old and twenty-three year old can date, but God forbid...

Whatever.

What-fucking-ever.

I don't care.

I cried again.

Why am I fucking crying all the time?

I thought about Bobby again.

Why do I keep thinking about Bobby?

It's been years.

Two goddamn years.

Help me.