11 a.m. – Was violently sick. The feathers of the sparrows are now strewn messily about my room. The attendant heard my loud and frequent gags and said I would receive no help until later when he had informed Dr. Seward.

"By turning me away you have turned away the Master, my saviour!" I cried furiously after him. He continued to pass me. "You have condemned yourself!" My warnings fell upon deaf ears and I am now awaiting Dr. Seward to help me as I am mercilessly vomiting feathers, meat, and blood.

21 July. – Hell and damnation! Yesterday evening Dr. Seward took my now precious pocket-book from me. The very thing he assigned me! I know he has read it, and now he must know about my consumption of my little lives. I fear now that I shall never receive my cat or kitten, and it makes me melancholic to think on. It was dark when he came to me yesterday, and he found me in a corner, next to my bed, gathering up the flies I had caught. He asked me if I were to sleep, and when I told him I would not, he bowed his head, as if deeply affected by my defiance of slumber. Without words he gave me a very potent opiate and within the minute I was soundly sleeping in a sleep deeper than Hell's pit. When I awoke this morning I scrambled in my coat's inner pocket for my journal but, much to my dismay, could not find it. This played on my nerves and I now am feeling tense and angry, furious! In taking my journal the doctor has betrayed both me and my trust and will have to win it back… with a kitten perhaps.