school, schmool

    First day of life as a sophomore, and it's not too awful. I didn't get many classes with friends, but that's okay. They're supposed to teach me how to socialize and "become a better, more wholesome" person, but fuck that. I'm perfectly fine living my life as a lonely, deranged weirdo with a knack for violent fantasies.
    Speaking of violent fantasies, no matter how much I try to come off as socially normal and in no way insane on the first day, I always manage to fuck it up. Sure, I'm probably skewing things in my mind to beat myself up, but I swear to god, the other kids must think I'm a mass murderer. Or a taxidermist. Both are creepy.
    Everything went fine for the first few classes. I had a few awkward moments, but nothing too horrible. A little stutter now and then, but I kept it under control for the most part. The thing is, the longer the day went on, the worse and more lonely I felt. I would be absolutely peachy-keen for school if it weren't for the group work. Unless I know at least two people in a class, I'm usually stuck alone. And it makes me feel horrible about myself. Whatever, back to the violent fantasies part.
   The last period of the day, Geometry, I accidentally walked into the wrong class and ended up roughly a minute late for my actual class. I knocked and I got let it, but Mrs. T----- gave me a weird look, like I had just disemboweled her dog and strung it up on her front porch by its intestines. Some nice kid showed me where my seat was and I took it, and then we got on to one of the many annoying name games you have to do on the first day, although I couldn't give two shits about any of the people in my class or what their names are. This time, we had to say our names and one thing we did over the summer. I was second-to-last, and I watched in boredom as we went around the room talking about things I didn't care about. When we got to me, I said these exact words: "My name is S-----, and over the summer I went to K-----."
    You could hear a pin drop. I don't know if I've violated some sort of ancient social code that forbids girls with an 's' name from speaking of towns starting with K's, but it went dead silent. Mrs. T----- looked at me and said, "Okay." I really wish I could type the disdain that dripped from her voice, but the limits of modern technology prevent me from doing so. And here's the fun part! For the next five minutes, instead of working out her bullshit logic puzzles, which aren't logic, but more of an acceptable retard test to use in school (Is your hand bigger than your face?), I imagined jabbing a meat fork into her fat ass that was covered in a skirt that could have sheltered an entire African tribe, if it weren't a shade of pink so violent that it made you want to be sick.
    And if someone ever does read this, I'm mostly kidding. I don't have the arm strength to stab a person with a meat fork. Besides, this is just a place for me to vent. It calms me down after a hard day. Oh well, only the rest of the school year to deal with. Happy trails for now, reader(s?).