June 21st, 1973

I am a monster. I have been raging for days. I have no internal logic left inside of me. I am ugly inside and out. And I rage like a maniac to the world about me. 

I have been treating Richard like some mongrel dog. I use the slightest, most incredible excuses to get mad at him– hurt him– treat him badly–

I’ve been yelling and slamming about the apartment. Threatening terrible scenes with Don across the hall. 

This morning when I got up– feeling all remorseful about a fit I threw last night– I found out that during the night one of the cats had eaten– destroyed– one of our plants– the azalea. I flew into a frenzy. I jerked Buddy up– flung him into the air– shook him– screaming like a wild man– then I threw him across the room. I was immediately so overcome with guilt that I truly could have died.

and he forgave me

immediately.

All I have to do was call him and he came to me– glad to be held.

I do not feel responsible for my life– I feel subjected to it–