She was all he had, besides his job that is, but even that was not as thrilling as it used to be. The only other thing he had really ever lived for, he had lost, and he was reminded of that every day of his life, or at least every week day. Now the number one person in his life was slipping away from him, and there was nothing he could do about it.

He knew the woman on her death bed was partially the reason he had lost the love of his life. At least, she played a part in it, but he could never truly hate her. She was the reason he had changed his ways and became a decent man. She gave him shelter and became the mother he never had, and in return, he filled the void her own son had left. However, her mothering habits were for a young child, not a twenty year old man.

For years, Seymour thought nothing of it. He had never had an actual childhood so he just became a big child, at will. It was not until he got into his forties that he realized something was wrong. And by the time he found love, it was too late. Seymour and his mother were so set in their ways that they had no way of changing quickly enough.

Edna had left him at the altar and eventually married someone else. However, he could blame no one but himself. And he did. He hated himself for what he had become, but when he really thought about it, he came to the conclusion that he had never been any good.

Orphan-born turned street punk, the army could hardly tame him. If it had not been for his drill sergeant, he would have ended up getting himself killed one way or another.

But he only ended up taking a name that was not his own, and along with that, someone else's dream. Sure, he got his chance to start over, but at times like this, he could only think "Who am I, really?" Being a principal had not been his dream. The only dream that had been truly his was marrying Edna Krabappel, and that dream had been crushed.

Soon he would be left with nothing but memories. Sweet memories of his mother, bittersweet of Edna, and traumatizing ones of 'Nam.

"I was born with nothing, and in the end, I still have nothing. Well, at least I didn't lose anything . . . Oh, who am I kidding? I have lost everything!" He sobbed, his face buried in his hands.

"SEYMOUR! Stop blubbering," Agnes said.

Seymour smiled a little, looking down at his mother. "I'm sorry, Mother. I just . . . I don't know who I am."

"You're Seymour Skinner. I'm the sick one, and I know that!"

"Mother, I'm being serious. I'm freaking out."

"Seymour, you're going to be fine. You're a big boy! You don't need your old mother. You never did . . . It was I who needed you," she added softer.

His mother didn't quite understand what he meant, but her words comforted him enough. It was not often the woman showed her appreciation for her son, and any sign of it was nice for Seymour to hear.

"I did need you, though. I still do. I'd be nothing with you."

"You're right," Agnes agreed instantly. "But I think 20 years of mothering was enough. You're going to be fine." Though, realizing something, she became sad. "I never got to see you get married."

"I'm sure no one will, Mother."

"I'm sure, too." She paused before saying, "Bring Edna here."

"W-what?"

"You heard me. I need to talk to her."

"You never even liked—"

"Don't backtalk me!"

"Yes, Mother."

She had lived her life seeing dream after dream crushed so much to the point she could not remember what her dream was anymore. The only thing she knew was that she had wanted a husband, and now that she had one, she often wondered why she wasn't completely satisfied.

Maybe she had too high of expectations for life, or maybe she had been unhappy for so long, she had forgotten how to be truly happy.

She felt everything she tried in life, she failed at. She had gotten married fairly young, only to end in a partial divorce—that is, being separated but doomed with her husband's last name.

She had took to drinking, getting fired from her first teaching job. Teaching had been her dream. She had obtained a master's degree and held a position at a private institution. She felt crushed and wondered what other blows would hit.

It had her down for a while, but eventually she had picked herself back up again and applied for a teaching job in the town she had grown up in—Springfield.

She wanted to start anew, but she also wanted someone new to love her. She couldn't stand being single for long because, naturally, she was getting older, and she didn't want to be lonely forever.

However, she had many relationship fails along the way. The one that hurt the most was the one that she was so sure of at first. It had been right under their noses for years. She and Principal Skinner found love at one of her student's birthday parties. They both shed some light into each other's dreary lives. However, he tried her patience too many times, and she felt that she had no choice but to leave him at the altar.

That was when her life seemed to become hopeless. She buried her feelings for Seymour and dated every man she could, desperate for love.

Just when she thought she had been with everyone, she landed—literally—into the arms of Ned Flanders.

And here she was today—married to him. The last man she had expected to be with, and he came with two goofy kids to match.

As much as she had come to detest her job at the school, she was starting to enjoy seeing her students. They were much more real to her than her step children.

She hated that what was once her dream, had progressively become a nightmare. The children at Springfield Elementary were nothing like the ones at the previous school she had taught at. They were not as bright, and they were lazy. However, there wasn't much to motivate them; the school was a dump. And out of all the little hell raisers, she was stuck teaching the worst of them all—Bart Simpson—"America's Bad Boy", as he liked to call himself. She found herself with him nearly every day after school. If only there was a more efficient punishment because chalkboard sentences did nothing.

Though she wouldn't admit it aloud if she could help it, she did think the boy could be sweet. But just when she thought he had a kind heart, he proved her wrong. She didn't know what to make of the boy, but she knew there was no escaping him. They now lived next door to each other.

"Mrs. K?"

"Hm?" Edna asked, not looking up from her magazine. "Are you done? You may go."

"Well, the thing is, the bullies took my skateboard today. Can you give me a lift home?"

The teacher sighed. "Well, it is on the way." She put out her cigarette, a little reluctantly, knowing it would be her last for the day. Ned did not like her smoking in the house. He did not like her smoking at all, but she wasn't going to let him push her around. She would respect his house, but she wasn't going to change her habits completely for him.

"Mrs. K, can I ask you something?" Bart asked as they were heading down the road.

"No, I will not give you the answers to tomorrow's test."

Bart laughed lightly. "No, it's not that . . . Are you alright? I mean . . . are you happy?"

"Whatever do you mean?" the woman smiled.

"You can't hide, Edna. I've known you long enough to know when something's not right."

"Well, everything is perfectly fine, Bart."

"I don't mean to sound creepy, but sometimes I can see you through my window. You can't deny it now. I've seen you crying . . . What's bothering you?"

As much as Edna was freaked out that Bart was spying on her, she turned her head and saw the concern on Bart's face and was touched. "Well, I . . . I don't know." She honestly didn't.

"Do you think you miss Seymour?" Bart asked suddenly, causing Edna to freeze.

"I . . . Why would you say that?"

"I don't know. You two were just cool together. You both were so happy. Remember the time I found you both in the janitor's closet?" He cackled. "Whoa, things were getting hot in there!"

Edna's lips tightened, her heart racing and her insides turning. Memories she had forced out of her mind, feelings she had long since swallowed, were coming up to the surface. She did not speak until they reached the Simpsons' house. "Get out," she said acidly.

"What'd I do?" Bart asked innocently.

She spoke calmly. "Bart, you'll learn in life you shouldn't bring up people's pasts. Especially exes . . . How would you like it if I started prodding you about . . . Mary Spuckler?" Bart whimpered a little. "Exactly, now get out and go study for your history test."

"Y-yes ma'am," the boy scampered off.

Edna pulled up to the Flanders' driveway with a sigh. There was much more on her mind now, thanks to Bart, and she really did not know what to think at all. However, she forced a smile on her face and walked inside the house.