Teenage Dream

   I have a confession, you guys. I think I'm a pedophile.

   Now, I know what you're all thinking: That's creepy and disgusting, and seriously, put this bitch in jail, that is so fucked up! but calm down: I'm not that kind of pedophile. I have, like, standards. I mentioned Mark/Matt AKA the bearded minors in my English class, and I've been sitting with Matt for a couple weeks and that beard is nothing to shake a stick at. What does that even mean? Is that even a real expression? Whatever, I'm not changing it. Learn to like it.

   So, aside from Mark/Matt, there is the kid who commented on my "two first names" (whose name is Adam), and I work with another 17-year old named Alex. They're fucking everywhere. Initially, I was finding myself being driven to the brink of madness, their young flesh serving as a constant reminder of my old age, until, feeling desperate, I decided it's time for a new perspective. I've interpreted all of this as the universe's way of telling me 20 is the new 40 and it's time for me to go all Cougar up in this bitch. Get out of my way, Courteney Cox. Your show sucks anyway. Seriously, have you guys seen it? It's terrible. Like, painfully bad. Why was it renewed for a second season?  I mean, think about it: They're young, inexperienced perhaps, struggling to find their place in the world during their first months away from home (or, in Alex's case, his senior year of high school, oh my God that's disturbingly young, hey maybe he'll take me to prom-) and I could be a real resource for them. I could give them a place to belong. 

   So I've spent English class mentally planning my various illicit escapades (English 102 is really boring you guys, forreal) and today we were assigned to do group work. Matt and I were put to work together with some other kid named Tyler (who I couldn't help noticing is also pretty easy on the eyes), and we got to talking. "Wow, did he just ask me what a thesis is?" I asked myself, feeling a mild sense of panic. "Calm down, Linnea," I ordered myself. "Now is not the time to be pretentious. Just think of the beard." 
   I laughed and played with my hair as I directed him to the page in our book that explains how to write a thesis. "It's like, right there!" I said, giggling.
   "Wow, I'm like, jealous of your writing ability," he said, reading my introduction paragraph.
   "Yeah, well it's my third year of college, so I have like, a lot of like, experience...with this kind of thing," I said shrugging. "So when do you turn 18?"
   "A little over a month," he answered excitedly. "I'm so ready. I can't wait to drive after 9."
   "Yeah, that'll be really- wait, what? Holy shit. Oh Christ, this is... I am old as fuck," I said, gathering my things in a mad dash.
   "Hey, do you live in Spaulding?" he asked.
   "What? I, oh- what? No. I-I d-don't live here. I don't live here. I'm-I have to go." I muttered, running out of the classroom.

   They're so hot until they talk.