Crying can bring relief, as long as you don’t cry alone.
I’m currently in the middle of a depression. I couldn’t really tell you what set it off, but I think it stems from my cowardice, which confronts me at every turn.
I love you, with a love so great that it simply couldn’t keep growing inside my heart, but had to leap out and reveal itself in all its magnitude.
I’ve reached the point where I hardly care whether I live or die. The world will keep on turning without me, I can’t do anything to change events anyway.
Sometimes I’m so deeply buried under self-reproaches that I long for a word of comfort to help me dig myself out again.
Anyhow, I’ve learned one thing now. You only really get to know people when you’ve had a jolly good row with them. Then and then only can you judge their true characters!
People who have a religion should be glad, for not everyone has the gift of believing in heavenly things.
Sometimes I believe that God wants to try me, both now and later on; I must become good through my own efforts, without examples and without good advice.
There’s something happening everyday, but I’m too tired and lazy to write it all down.
I soothe my conscience now with the thought that it is better for hard words to be on paper than that Mummy should carry them in her heart.
Let’s not talk about it any more, but if you still want anything please write to me about it, because I can say what I mean much better on paper.
An empty day, though clear and bright, Is just as dark as any night.
Who else but me is ever going to read these letters?
It must be awful to feel you’re not needed.
I can’t let them see my doubts, or the wounds they’ve inflicted on me.
I had an occasional flash of understanding, but then got selfishly wrapped up again in my own problems and pleasures.
In the future I’m going to devote less time to sentimentality and more time to reality.
He clings to his solitude, to his affected indifference and his grown-up ways, but it’s just an act, so as never, never to show his real feelings.
Who knows, perhaps he doesn’t care about me at all and look at the others in just the same way.
I’m sentimental – I know. I’m desperate and silly – I know that too. Oh, help me!