25.06.81
Not many OWLs left. I did the best I could.
Ten days until I have to go home, twelve days until I have to talk to Eberhilde in person, be kind and fond and a total gentleman and wait to vomit until long after she's gone.
I hate Eberhilde Gottlieb, and she's the last person I want to marry, but it's the choice that makes sense. She's not bad-looking, but that isn't what matters. She only thinks about herself, her own family, her own country, and everything else is just silly nonsense. She has no intentions of working, ever, which makes me a perfect choice for her -- even while I'm only working for Maman's office, I'm still worth enough money to buy her everything she wants.
It's not for a few years. I won't have to spend every day with her or anything. I can spend some time with Maya, some time with Sarah. I can find some time away or I might just lose my mind.
I did the best I could to keep this out of my mind but if my OWLs are less than satisfactory it's because all I can think of is death being the only thing parting me from that airheaded bitch.
Genny's arranged, too. I can't find it within myself to consider this poetic justice.
Patrice Laurent is owling my sister. I don't know what to think of this.
But I'd like it to stop. I'd like the whole world to go back to the way it was, because I'm too young to feel this old and tired.
Nearly finished with OWLs. It's hard to believe.
Quite a year, don't you think?