Dearest Diary,
Thrice I have begun to write to you and words have not been made to light on this parchment. I am finding myself wanting in confidence and calm, with no reasonable recommendation for improving the situation. I cannot deny the worth of my cousins' company this afternoon as for a time they did indeed put my troubles to rest. But as morning approaches and sleep itself seems scarce, I begin again to worry over insignificant details that I am apt to forget in a week's time. Would that I could forget them sooner. I am not too downhearted as of yet, and I suspect that perhaps an unscheduled hymnsing may improve my disposition on the morrow.
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