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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 [[end page]] [[start page]] [[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.