My mother wrote in her journal yesterday. Her name is Angeline. We lost our house yesterday, along with my sister Meg. I am 10 years old and my brother Josoph is 13. Mother says we are in charge now that she is gonna die. Mother is only 27. She says it's okay thats she is dying because the Lord sufferd even though he was the saintest person on earth. A robber shot Meg yesterday and he shot Mother too. Meg, died as soon as she was shot but Mother is lasting a bit longer. My Auntie found her crushed doll and she is going to get us to my Uncle Herb's house. We live a miloe from the soup kitchen. Life is awful. Auntie and Mother say it's the President's fault we are in the depression.
I wish the robbers
had shot me.
I hate myself,
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