The Washington times., 1920-12-06

- SUFFER FROM
A TIRED SOUL"
But the cut-throats like the ami
mals-there seems TO be some re-
lation between them. They like the
frankly animal type, well preserved,
entirely selfish, devoid of intellect,
with saccharin manners and the
senses OF a harem lady-that, COM
bined with the tenacity of rat.
And a rat is no fool and fool is
. no rat
Nov. l6-Went down town in a car
and did some shopping. Met many
] know and gave them but a nod
l walk about in a daze. Ny eyes
never direct Il single thought of mine
as l go. My thoughts are all within
and my Indifference must convince
the clerks that l am not in my right
mind. Perhaps / am not.
! am conscious that no great char
acter is formed without suffering ana
denial. No great achievements are
POSSIBLE without great effort ana
sacrifice, but ! am afraid that my
sacrifices have been so great in the
aid OF achievement that l am a mental
loss.
II feel that l cannot go on. |
am tired within. Physically well,
mentally alert when I concentrate
and try to be, but nevertheless ex-
hausted. 1t is a tired soul that l
suffer from. An ailment hard to cure.
1t cannot be cured, or the patient
Will not help, cannot help.
November 17-Today has again
convinced me that you need not think
to progress. 1t is about automatic
after a time. Certainly I have for
days gone about my responsibilities
in a sort of haze, from which / can
make no effort to rouse myself Yet
I seem to observers apparently to
embody efficiency and nerve. One
doesn't need to think. And so this
constant thinking, this almost des-
perate thinking which I do has moth
ing to do with necessity. 1t is use
less.
reach the conclusion that the
safest method of progress in stupid
I.group is to take yourself seriously.
People are such born believers. If
lyou like yourself they will consider
&your opinion in forming their esti-
mate. l hate myself, but thank good
ness. no one recognizes it. My
, friends are good to me.
i"MY UNHAPPINESS IS
KILLING MY HEART"
i look back over this little record
OF my dull days and am astounded at
the growing bitterness of my view
poiEt What started me in this never
faltering mood? l don't even recall.
Yet | suppose that ii was some trivial
thing some unpleasant word, some
1hougntless and sighting action.
still | can think of scores of things
which would have made a major
reason for despair. 1t may have been
anything. At the moment | forget.
but / know that l am sounding the
depths of unhappiness. What depths?
Nov. 1S.-Up early; went shopping.
Bought pretty negligec. Just habit!
, What good can pretty things do me?
My life does not seem pretty, and the
future is even ugly.
Have developed worse cold than
ever. High fever-near pneumonia.
Tried to work, but so i'll l could not.
try to keep up my spirit, but it is
dead weight. I have read the books
of Christian Science and beautiful
works of poetry, but it is all quite
useless.
What I need is faith. and my faith,
has been so cruelty shattered that it
responds to nothing. The word itself
brings but bitter laugh. Why faith?
Yet in the end l know that I must
turn to God to comfort in my un-
happiness only hesitate because my
heart is so bitter. l must have rest.
I cannot go on forever in my unhap-
1,ness. 1t is killing my heart as it did
my soul.
SHE GAVE FREELY.
RECEIVED NOTHING.
] have given what l can give,
freely, willingly. and I receive not
even notwithstanding. What
situation, To attempt to smile
through 1t is impossible. That ] have
tried. But you feel absurd and apollo
getic for your wavering smile because
il has no basis and is just an indica-
ton that you have no measurement
Of values. Why should l smile? How
dare smile. when my heart is broken
and my life waste?
Nov. 19.-Idle, and my diary at
hand, but what to write? ] am so i'll.
NY cold is better. What is illness?
what is a cold? What is wealth?
What is poverty? What is success?
What Is failure? I AM UNHAPPY.
THE FUTURE HOLDS NOTHING.
What can make up for these two
facts? NOTHING. And so / am i'll,
no matter how fares my cold or any
other trivial thing. am i'll and great
physicians might stand about me in
hordes, merely nodding their heads in
melancholy unison. My Illness is
beyond them. They can neither iron
out souls or patch up hearts-unfor-
tunately. Poor medicos! Poor me!
There is interest IN q single let
ter, carefully PINNED to the nert
page of the diary, around a1hich aods
bound hedry elastic. IL is merely
dated "2Oth," but in view of its con-
rent and the fact that Hdnon aCds
shot on November 81, It might read
iv haze formed the basis Of the
tragedy. II follotcs:
"My Dearest Pal:
"Just received your letter of FRI
day eve and was more than glad to
hear from you, and | appreciate all
you said about me, and hope you
- The most complete line
OF Power Trnnsmt.sio.
G M..e..t-, :. w..a!.-...:
n Detachable |