—, March 24, 1912, 9:53 P. M.
After another despicable fall following on a good and bad day, I am almost desperate and realize that the fight for life must come to a head soon. I wrote the preceding from 7:35 to 8:25 this morning. Following that I started in on my scraps and about 11 o’clock my plan for a hard day’s work came to naught, because of a disturbed mind due, as I know, to too much of one thing. I simply have not the capacity to stick to one thing very long, although the things I like are always fresh after diversion. Going out for a change, some of the boys asked me to cross the river for a good walk. I consented, and after dinner (almuerzo or breakfast here), we took bum boat to landing near Morro, walked to Cojimar, across country, along shore and on roads, and thence to Regla. The hot sun and dusty roads tired me, and to-night, tired and wearied, I fell. Too much is killing for me. I must hold off, and simply cannot stand any day too much of anything. There simply has got to be a readjustment or I shall go crazy or become desperate. Below all this I feel the fight welling up in me, however, and to-morrow must hold forth better promise.