pretenses

it's all about pretenses.

when both bathrooms are taken up when you wake up with one and one half hours to get to school, one by your grandfather and one by your disabled aunt, you pretend you don't mind.

when your grandfather has to be taken to the polyclinic to have a worrying weeks-old wound checked out, but you can't go because they want you to go to class, even though you're going to be late and don't want to go anyway because this week they're covering the depressing state of the job market (or lack thereof) for people with the diploma you're supposed to be pursuing, you pretend you don't care.

when you find your two-hundred-dollar sneakers shoved into what appears to be a recycling/trash bag for the fifth time this month, you just take them out and put them on without saying anything, on the pretense that you're in a hurry.

when you take money out to be put into your bank account to pay the power bill and find out that it's more or less all the extra money you had, you take your receipt and bankbook, turn around and sprint towards the bus, pretending to know that it's the one you need to get on to.

when joan catches up to you while crossing the overhead bridge after getting off the bus, you acknowledge her, surprised out of the thoughts you were deep in as you were walking, as she apologizes for being in a hurry and walks away at a speed slower than you usually move at, you want to laugh at the ironic reversal in walking speeds, to see if it'll help pretend that you don't really care that much about anything.

but, you don't laugh.