May 28, 1935

 

I've just sent him the vital letter. Query: will he see it as urgent?

We'll see. If I don't get an answer before this evening, I'll take 25 pills and drift gently off into another world.

He has so often told me he is madly in love with me, but what does that mean when I haven't had a nice word from him in three months?

So he's had his head full of politics all this time, but surely it's time he relaxed a bit. What about last year? Didn't Roehm and Italy give him a lot of worries, but in spite of all that he found time for me.

Maybe the present situation is far more difficult for him, nevertheless a few kind words conveyed through the Hoffmanns wouldn't have been so much to ask.

I'm afraid there is something behind it. I'm certainly not to blame. Absolutely not.

Maybe it's another woman, not the Valkyrie - that would be a bit hard to swallow. But there are so many other women.

Are there any other explanations? I can't think of any.

God, I'm afraid he won't give me his answer today. If only somebody would help me - it's all so terribly depressing.

Perhaps my letter reached him at the wrong moment. Perhaps I shouldn't have written.

Anyway, the uncertainty is worse than just ending it all.

I've made up my mind to take 35 pills this time, so it will be "dead certain."

If only someone would call me.

Posted by Eva Android at 8:41 am