Dear Diary, I really have no idea how much longer I can stand living here. I’m lonely here. The other women from town who I used to talk with live too far away from Tyler Ranch. Curley doesn’t talk much to me, as always, but then again I really don’t enjoy talking to him either.
He’s a truly malevolent person; I’ve never heard him say anything good about anyone not even his own father! I don’t think he truly cares for me, either. He sees me as his property, and sometimes he even vents out his anger at me. The men working here aren’t much better, either. They probably just see me as Curley’s property, too. They won’t even talk nicely to me.
What’s wrong with me? Why can’t I talk to people when I’m lonely? Is it wrong for me to have a conversation with anyone I wished once in a while? That reminds me of last nights talk with Curley he was so angry and he “accidentally” kicked me. My leg still hurts. One day, someone will put a stop to him I know that I wouldn’t be able to. What would I do, anyway? If I told anyone, Curley would probably talk his way out of it. Life would be much better if I had never married Curley Life would be much better if my mother denied me the opportunity to have a better life and live comfortably. If I were famous and in movies, I would be wearing nice silk clothes with lace and pearl buttons that wealthy people wear.
But I’m stuck here, in this hot, filthy ranch, with only plain cotton dresses to wear. Curley’s back.
