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op；　and　bep　provided　a　batch　of　cookies　that　was　up　to　prewar　standards。

there　was　a　jar　of　yogurt　for　peter；　margot　and　me；　and　a　bottle　of　beer　for　each　of　the　adults。　and　once　again　everything　was　wrapped　so　nicely；　with　pretty　pictures　glued　to　the　packages。　for　the　rest；　the　holidays　passed　by　quickly　for　us。

anne　wednesday；　december　29；　1943

i　was　very　sad　again　last　night。　grandma　and　hanneli　came　to　me　once　more。

grandma；　oh；　my　sweet　grandma。　how　little　we　understood　what　she　suffered；　how　kind　she　always　was　and　what　an　interest　she　took　in　everything　that　concerned　us。

and　to　think　that　all　that　time　she　was　carefully　guarding　her　terrible　secret。　*　＇*annes　grandmother　was　terminally　ill。＇　grandma　was　always　so　loyal　and　good。　she　would　never　have　let　any　of　us　down。

whatever　happened；　no　matter　how　much　i　misbehaved；　grandma　always　stuck　up　for　me。　grandma；　did　you　love　me；　or　did　you　not　understand　me　either？　i　dont　know。

how　lonely　grandma　must　have　been；　in　spite　of　us。　you　can　be　lonely　even　when　youre　loved　by　many　people；　since　youre　still　not　bd〃di〃　any　0　y　s　one　an　only。

and　hanneli？　is　she　still　alive？　whats　she　doing？　dear　god；　watch　over　her　and　bring　her　back　to　us。　hanneli；　youre　a　reminder　of　what　my　fate　might　have　been。　i　keep　seeing　myself　in　your　place。　so　why　am　i　often　miserable　about　what　goes　on　here？

shouldnt　i　be　happy；　contented　and　glad；　except　when　im　thinking　of　hanneli　and　those　suffering　along　with　her？　im　selfish　and　cowardly。　why　do　i　always　think　and　dream　the　most　awful　things　and　want　to　scream　in　terror？　because；　in　spite　of　everything；　i　still　dont　have　enough　faith　in　god。　hes　given　me　so　much；　which　i　dont　deserve；　and　yet　each　day　i　make　so　many　mistakes！

thinking　about　the　suffering　of　those　you　hold　dear　can　reduce　you　to　tears；　in　fact；　you　could　spend　the　whole　day　crying。　the　most　you　can　do　is　pray　for　god　to　perform　a　miracle　and　save　at　least　some　of　them。　and　i　hope　im　doing　enough　of　that！

anne　thursday；　december　30；　1943

dearest　kitty；

since　the　last　raging　quarrels；　things　have　settled　down　here；　not　only　between　ourselves；　dussel　and　〃upstairs；〃　but　also　between　mr。　and　mrs。　van　d。　nevertheless；　a　few　dark　thunderclouds　are　heading　this　way；　and　all　because　of　。　。　。　food。　mrs。　van　d。　came　up　with　the　ridiculous　idea　of　frying　fewer　potatoes　in　the　morning　and　saving　them　for　later　in　the　day。　mother　and　dussel　and　the　rest　of　us　didnt　agree　with　her；　so　now　were　dividing　up　the　potatoes　as　well。　it　seems　the　fats　and　oils　arent　being　doled　out　fairly；　and　mothers　going　to　have　to　put　a　stop　to　it。　ill　let　you　know　if　there　are　any　interesting　developments。　for　the　last　few　months　now　weve　been　splitting　up　the　meat　（theirs　with　fat；　ours　without）；　the　soup　（they　eat　it；　we　dont）；　the　potatoes　（theirs　peeled；　ours　not）；　the　extras　and　now　the　fried　potatoes　too。

if　only　we　could　split　up　pletely！

yours；　anne　

p。s。　bep　had　a　picture　postcard　of　the　entire　royal　family　copied　for　me。　juliana　looks　very　young；　and　so　does　the　queen。　the　three　little　girls　are　adorable。　it　was　incredibly　nice　of　bep；　dont　you　think？

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JANUARY；　1944

灏彛胯�矗縯xt？澶╁爞
sunday；　january　2；　1944

dearest　kitty；

this　morning；　when　i　had　nothing　to　do；　i　leafed　through　the　pages　of　my　diary　and

came　across　so　many　letters　dealing　with　the　subject　of　〃mother〃　in　such　strong　terms　that　i　was　shocked。　i　said　to　myself；　〃anne；　is　that　really　you　talking　about　hate？　oh；　anne；　how　could　you？鈥�

i　continued　to　sit　with　the　open　book　in　my　hand　and　wonder　why　i　was　filled　with　so　much　anger　and　hate　that　i　had　to　confide　it　all　to　you。　i　tried　to　understand　the　anne　of　last　year　and　make　apologies　for　her；　because　as　long　as　i　leave　you　with　these　accusations　and　dont　attempt　to　explain　what　prompted　them；　my　conscience　wont　be　clear。　i　was　suffering　then　（and　still　do）　from　moods　that　kept　my　head　under　water　（figuratively　speaking）　and　allowed　me　to　see　things　only　from　my　own　perspective；　without　calmly　considering　what　the　others　　those　whom　i；　with　my　mercurial　temperament；　had　hurt　or　offended　　had　said；　and　then　acting　as　they　would　have　done。

i　hid　inside　myself；　thought　of　no　one　but　myself　and　calmly　wrote　down　all　my　joy；　sarcasm　and　sorrow　in　my　diary。　because　this　diary　has　bee　a　kind　of　memory　book；　it　means　a　great　deal　to　me；　but　i　could　easily　write　〃over　and　done　with〃　on　many　of　its　pages。

i　was　furious　at　mother　（and　still　am　a　lot　of　the　time）。　its　true；　she　didnt　understand　me；　but　i　didnt　understand　her　either。　because　she　loved　me；　she　was　tender　and　affectionate；　but　because　of　the　difficult　situations　i　put　her　in；　and　the　sad　circumstances　in　which　she　found　herself；　she　was　nervous　and　irritable；　so　i　can　understand　why　she　was　often　short　with　me。

i　was　offended；　took　it　far　too　much　to　heart　and　was　insolent　and　beastly　to　her；　which；　in　turn；　made　her　unhappy。　we　were　caught　in　a　vicious　circle　of　unpleasantness　and　sorrow。　not　a　very　happy　period　for　either　of　us；　but　at　least　its　ing　to　an　end。　i　didnt　want　to　see　what　was　going　on；　and　i　felt　very　sorry　for　myself；　but　thats　understandable　too。

those　violent　outbursts　on　paper　are　simply　expressions　of　anger　that；　in　normal　life；　i　could　have　worked　off　by　locking　myself　in　my　room　and　stamping　my　foot　a　few　times　or　calling　mother　names　behind　her　back。

the　period　of　tearfully　passing　judgment　on　mother　is　over。　ive　grown　wiser　and　mothers　nerves　are　a　bit　steadier。　most　of　the　time　i　manage　to　hold　my　tongue　when　im　annoyed；　and　she　does　too；　so　on　the　surface；　we　seem　to　be　getting　along　better。　but　theres　one　thing　i　cant　do；　and　thats　to　love　mother　with　the　devotion　of　a　child。

i　soothe　my　conscience　with　the　thought　that　its　better　for　unkind　words　to　be　down　on　paper　than　for　mother　to　have　to　carry　them　around　in　her　heart。

yours；　anne　

thursday；　january　6；　1944

dearest　kitty；

today　i　have　two　things　to　confess。　its　going　to　take　a　long　time；　but　i　have　to　tell　them　to　someone；　and　youre　the　most　likely　candidate；　since　i　know　youll　keep　a　secret；　no　matter　what　happens。

the　first　is　about　mother。　as　you　know；　ive　frequently　plained　about　her　and　then　tried　my　best　to　be　nice。　ive　suddenly　realized　whats　wrong　with　her。　mother　has　said　that　she　sees　us　more　as　friends　than　as　daughters。　thats　all　very　nice；　of　course；　except　that　a　friend　cant　take　the　place　of　a　mother。　i　need　my　mother　to　set　a　good　example　and　be　a　person　i　can　respect；　but　in　most　matters　shes　an　example　of　what　not　to　do。　i　have　the　feeling　that　margot　thinks　so　differently　about　these　things　that　shed　never　be　able　to　understand　what　ive　just　told　you。　and　father　avoids　all　conversations　having　to　do　with　mother。

i　imagine　a　mother　as　a　woman　who；　first　and　foremost；　possesses　a　great　deal　of　tact；　especially　toward　her　adolescent　children；　and　not　one　who；　like　momsy；　pokes　fun　at　me　when　i　cry。　not　because　im　in　pain；　but　because　of　other　things。

this　may　seem　trivial；　but　theres　one　incident　ive　never　forgiven　her　for。　it　happened　one　day　when　i　had　to　go　to　the　dentist。　mother　and　margot　planned　to　go　with　me　and　agreed　i　should　take　my　bicycle。　when　the　dentist　was　finished　and　we　were　back　outside；　margot　and　mother　very　sweetly　informed　me　that　they　were　going　downtown　to　buy　or　look　at　something；　i　dont　remember　what；　and　of　course　i　wanted　to　go　along。　but　they　said　i　couldnt　e　because　i　had　my　bike　with　me。　tears　of　rage　rushed　to　my　eyes；　and　margot　and　mother　began　laughing　at　me。　i　was　so　furious　that　i　stuck　my　tongue　out　at　them；　right　there　on　the　street。　a　little　old　lady　happened　to　be　passing　by；　and　she　looked　terribly　shocked。　i　rode　my　bike　home　and　must　have　cried　for　hours。　strangely　enough；　even　though　mother　has　wounded　me　thousands　of　times；　this　particular　wound　still　stings　whenever　i　think　of　how　angry　i　was。

i　find　it　difficult　to　confess　the　second　one　because　its　about　myself。　im　not　prudish；　kitty；　and　yet　every　time　they　give　a　blow…by…blow　account　of　their　trips　to　the

bathroom；　which　they　often　do；　my　whole　body　rises　in　revolt。

yesterday　i　read　an　article　on