Diary Entry 2 -- May 2, 1778

I am unsure what actions I should take at this moment. I have become a completely different man than I was but a mere week ago. I can hardly bear to call myself a man anymore, really. In the days since my last entry, I have been pushed to commit horrible, despicable things that no man of my stature should ever dream of doing. I suppose this diary is the most apt way of confessing my sins...but, where to begin?

I suppose I should begin with the passed Wednesday, when I entered my home and was greeted not with the loving arms of family, but rather the disappointed glare of a woman so ashamed of her husband, that she could not bear to allow him sleep under the same roof. She did, however, do me the courtesy of letting me see Frederick before casting me out into the dusky street. He did not utter a word, nor did his eyes ever leave the floor beneath his feet. Surely Rose did not possess the indecency to tell my own son of his father's misdoings? No, there had to be something else wrong.

Hesitantly, I bid my farewell. I still remember the last words I spoke to my Rosie, and I swear to live by them. "I will be back one day, and you will be proud of me." 

Thus far, I have not taken the right steps to achieve this goal. Over the past few nights, I have lived on the streets, scoured the rat-ways for nourishment and shelter, until finally, I worked up the nerve to beg and steal enough coin to stay at this shoddy inn, but only for a single night. I should use this time to forge a plan of how I shall get back home to my family, and hopefully, I will manage to get a good night's rest.