December 3, 1939 Sunday
I feel better now. I let myself go and had a good cry before. I guess anyone can guess why. I'm just sick and tired of sitting home night after night never going to dances, never having dates, and the fun and gaiety that all young people should have. The payoff is of course having Marit going out and talking about this "cute boy" and that "cute boy"! I'm not jealous of Marit, that would be dumb and I'm too fond of her to feel that way. It's just that I'm hurt and puzzled to find myself in a rut like this. I try to be sweet about it and pretend I don't mind sitting home while my kid sister steps out but underneath even though I hate to admit it to myself I want to hide somewhere and cry my eyes out. Gee I'm a fool!
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