Page:The story of Mary MacLane (IA storyofmarymacla00macliala).pdf/327



H, THE dreariness, the Nothingness!

Day after day—week after week,—it is dull and gray and weary. It is dull,, DULL!

No one loves me the least in the world.

"My life is dreary—he cometh not."

I am unhappy—unhappy.

It rains. The blue sky is weeping. But it is not weeping because I am unhappy.

I hate the blue sky, and the rain, and the wet ground, and everything. This morning I walked far away over the sand, and these things made me think they loved me—and that I loved them. But they fooled me. Everything fools me. I am a fool.

No one loves me. There are people here. But no one loves me—no one understands—no one cares.