Dwelling Gets You Nowhere DISCONTINUED

The "Cooky" Professor.

I slam my head against the desk in my office. I might retire soon, to be honest. I'm sick of all this shit. The kids are bright, don't get me wrong. But that also has it's downfalls. Th consider me the cooky professor. The walking talking monologue in the flesh. Just because I'm they're professor, do they not stop and think about how I feel about all the snarky remarks and the name calling. I'm about to bust into tears when I hear a knock at the door. I could recognise that knock from anywhere!
"Come on in, Emma!" I remark with cheerfulness. Emma staggers on in holding a 93-page essay.
"I forgot to hand it in during lessons so I decided to come see you personally and hand it in." Emma said with a hint of cheerfulness, yet a touch of sarcasm. I take it into my hands.
"Grab a chair, I'm gonna mark it now and hand it to you when I'm done." I gesture to the chair  in the corner and she does as I suggested. I get half way through the paper when she asks me a long awaited question that no one has asked me yet.
"Who are the people in this picture?" Emma asks thoughtfully. I look at the referenced picture and I feel a sharp pain hit me.
"That's Greg, Steve, Stu, Mark, Leighton... Chad and me." I stage quickly as I point at their figures. "I miss them a bunch. I was young once, Emma." I say on a slight day-dreamy fashion.
"I'm sure they wish for their glory days too." Emma replies in a half optimistic way. This comment only pained me more.
"Can people dream from graves, Emma?" I scoff out. Emma immediately looks up at me, realising her mistake.
"I'm so sor-" Emma tries to mutter out before I interrupted her.
"They are the reason I am the cooky professor. I wasn't always crazy you know. Though your peers would beg to differ. Do you seriously think I don't hear about the gossip?" I state bitterly. "Leave me to mark the rest of the paper, Emma." I say coldly. Emma does as I request and as soon as she's gone I burst into tears. I am pathetic.