The Diary of My Honeymoon

I was married yesterday. I'm eighteen today and I wish I was dead!

I've had two horrible months, all like a fever, being driven about and played with. Seeing things I didn't want to see, and hearing music I didn't want to hear. It seems as if I had been dreaming all the time, just to wake up now and then to feel horribly, horribly frightened and shocked.

And at last I began to think I should be glad when it was all over and I could be quiet and rest.

Rest! Shall I ever rest? Shall I ever be quiet? Or shall I go on and on till I go mad?