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[[preprinted]] [[underlined]] February 23 [[/underlined]] [[/preprinted]]

I couldn't fight it off.  I was alone and that heightened it.  I slept alone in the house rather hoping someone might murder me.  Then Thanksgiving.  I could think of only one thing to be thankful for - that we were both in the same world.  Lord, What's the matter with me?  That seems peculiar from me.  This afternoon we drank lots of gin and wine - and the others drank some corn too - Most of them were slightly lit, but Liz and I.  The date, some town egg was utterly impossible.  His egotism was disgusting - He said "I have you all doped out.  I know what you think about me."  I told him I had all my dates taken till Xmas.  He said he was going to call anyway.  I can hardly imagine

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[[preprinted]] [[underlined]] February 26 [[/underlined]] [[/preprinted]] 

how it would be if he were sober if he is any less entertaining than when he isn't.

I like to be alone in a house.  I feel so thoroly independent.  My head is beginning to whirl.  Damn.  What a disgusting day - I didn't even have the pleasure of forgetting for a short time, and I did get the [[strikethrough]] benefit of a [[/strikethrough]] ugliness of watching a crowd "pass out".

The clock is striking.  It hurts me.  It makes me breathless.  Why in hell do I have to be in love?

I think I'll call Violet.