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[[preprinted]] [[underlined]] March 20 [[/underlined]] [[/preprinted]] then very young. He is superficial to great degree as all young people are apt to be. Last night we drove and talked - I was slightly bored. I can not forget John at all; there is that indefinable emptyness that I can not drive away. It makes everything seem very futile. We neither of us desire the other sexually we find, so I suppose he feels that [[strikethrough]] the [[/strikethrough]] ^[[he]] might as well be alone reading Voltaire or Marcel Proust than talking nothing with me. whom he himself has nearly altogether taught to appreciate the beautiful. No, I shall [[end page]] [[start page]] [[preprinted]] [[underlined]] March 21 [[/underlined]] [[/preprinted]] never, never regret that I have known him--how he makes me hate the mediocre, as i now see it, and discriminate between [[strikethrough]] the [[/strikethrough]] charlatanism and perfection. I have only barely begun - but at least he has made me see other things. Always he has laughed at me. Now I am sure [[strikethrough]] at [[/strikethrough]] he has--before I only felt that he did. I grit my teeth when I think of how he must have been laughing at me before [[strikethrough]] he [[/strikethrough]] ^[[I]] knew that he was. I push my nails into my palms. How I would
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