Here is a potential diary entry from Margaret T. Canby based on the prompt:
January 15, 1892
The winter chill has seeped deep into my bones this year. For weeks now, a heavy gloom has weighed upon my heart, blocking out what little sunlight manages to penetrate this dreary season. I find no pleasure or escape in my usual pastimes - not in my books, nor in music, nor in walks through the garden when weather permits. All feels dull and colorless.
Anxieties plague my mind at every turn. I worry over Father's health, as his cough grows worse. I fret about money, with funds tighter than ever before. Even trivial decisions or small tasks seem insur