I don't know how people do it. There are so many excuses and distractions, to delay the actual studying. But I'm too lazy to even execute the said distractions (like, toilet breaks and looking for books... and texting people... and asking J to lend me the magazine he's flipping through... and and checking my phone, and organise all my files on the lappy... and going over to H, who's doing real research at the library just to say "hi" and then ask him if he wants to marry me...)
Sigh. Do you think he'll marry me? I think he won't. But maybe we can just like, pretend to get married. Our wedding will be at the museum. We'll be the ones organising the whole event (yeah, I bet he's awesome at it). He can turn it into a festival if he wants. I'll write to the sponsors. He can do the rest. And my dress will be like, an installation. We'll be suspended from the roof and then we'll jump, together. Our guests will tear and gasp in admiration, "Oh, how very poignant, how symbolic!"
We'll write in bed. And we'll keep silent in the shower. We'll discuss The Byrds (and how much I really hate them) and he'll talk about the assimilation of some kind of art. He'll stress that Henrik Ibsen's masterpiece, A Doll's House is far better written than my own humble choice of read; The Curious Case of the Dog in the Night time. Oh you'll think i'd give in to him but no, I am a woman who sticks to her books!
And we'll passionately argue about sex and lollipos, with cigarettes in hand as I fondly shave away at his face. Society will hold very dear and true in our heart of hearts. We'll slave away for the betterment of thousands, giving little thought for our own well being. Only 15 years into our art-infused marriage, will we fervently admit that we don't give a shit about society cause by then, we're comfortable enough to face the fact that we're selfish individuals who only care about money and the commercial value that charity holds (yes, paradoxical but true, i tell ya). It'll be a moment to remember because we've finally realised that we are no longer the idealistic teenagers that we once were.
And our kids, oh, our lovely kids. One will be a retard and the other one will be hideous - because the universe thinks that it's only fair to dispose some of the injustice on a beautiful and blissfully married couple.
And years later, on my deathbed, I'll reveal to him that I've been cheating all my life. I sneak off to Google every other hour to fill my shallow mind with art and the things that he cares about, just to satisfy his intellectual needs. I live in fear, every single day of him leaving me, for someone so much more well endowed (with knowledge, mind you... i guess, probably boobs too, and a hot tushi).
And so, now i wonder... how is it even possible that my marriage to H is a perfect sham, even in fantasy?
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