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ds　of　skin　hide　the　opening。　the　holes　so　small　i　can　hardly　imagine　how　a　man　could　get　in　there；　much　less　how　a　baby　could　e　out。　its　hard　enough　trying　to　get　your　index　finger　inside。　thats　all　there　is；　and　yet　it　plays　such　an　important　role！

yours；　anne　

m。　frank

saturday；　march　25；　1944

dearest　kitty；

you　never　realize　how　much　youve　changed　until　after　its　happened。　ive　changed　quite　drastically；　everything　about　me　is　different：　my　opinions；　ideas；　critical　outlook。

inwardly；　outwardly；　nothings　the　same。　and；　i　might　safely　add；　since　its　true；　ive　changed　for　the　better。　i　once　told　you　that；　after　years　of　being　adored；　it　was　hard　for　me　to　adjust　to　the　harsh　reality　of　grown…ups　and　rebukes。　but　father　and　mother　are　largely　to　blame　for　my　having　to　put　up　with　so　much。　at　home　they　wanted　me　to　enjoy　life；　which　was　fine；　but　here　they　shouldnt　have　encouraged　me　to　agree　with　them　and　only　shown　me　〃their〃　side　of　all　the　quarrels　and　gossip。　it　was　a　long　time　before　i　discovered　the　score　was　fifty…fifty。　i　now　know　that　many　blunders　have　been　mitted　here；　by　young　and　old　alike。　father　and　mothers　biggest　mistake　in　dealing　with　the　van　daans　is　that　theyre　never　candid　and　friendly　（admittedly；　the　friendliness　might　have　to　be　feigned）。　above　all；　i　want　to　keep　the　peace；　and　to　neither　quarrel　nor　gossip。　with　father　and　margot　thats　not　difficult；　but　it　is　with　mother；　which　is　why　im　glad　she　gives　me　an　occasional　rap　on　the　knuckles。　you　can　win　mr。　van　daan　to　your　side　by　agreeing　with　him；　listening　quietly；　not　saying　much　and　most　of　all　。　。　。　responding　to　his　teasing　and　his　corny　jokes　with　a　joke　of　your　own。　mrs。　van　d。　can　be　won　over　by　talking　openly　to　her　and　admitting　when　youre　wrong。　she　also　frankly　admits　her　faults；　of　which　she　has　many。　i　know　all　too　well　that　she　doesnt　think　as　badly　of　me　as　she　did　in　the　beginning。　and　thats　simply　because　im　honest　and　tell　people　right　to　their　faces　what　i　think；　even　when　its　not　very　flattering。　i　want　to　be　honest；　i　think　it　gets　you　further　and　also　makes　you　feel　better　about　yourself。

yesterday　mrs。　van　d。　was　talking　about　the　rice　we　gave　mr。　kleiman。　〃all　we　do　is　give；　give；　give。　but　at　a　certain　point　i　think　that　enough　is　enough。　if　hed　only　take

the　trouble；　mr。　kleiman　could　scrounge　up　his　own　rice。　why　should　we　give　away　all　our　supplies？　we　need　them　just　as　badly。鈥�

〃no；　mrs。　van　daan；〃　i　replied。　〃i　dont　agree　with　you。　mr。　kleiman　may　very　well　be　able　to　get　hold　of　a　little　rice；　but　he　doesnt　like　having　to　worry　about　it。　its　not　our　place　to　criticize　the　people　who　are　helping　us。　we　should　give　them　whatever　they　need　if　we　can　possibly　spare　it。　one　less　pl
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APRIL；　1944

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saturday；　april　1；　1944

my　dearest　kitty；

and　yet　everything　is　still　so　difficult。　you　do　know　what　i　mean；　dont　you？　i　long　so　much　for　him　to　kiss　me；　but　that　kiss　is　taking　its　own　sweet　time。　does　he　still　think　of　me　as　a　friend？　dont　i　mean　anything　more？

you　and　i　both　know　that　im　strong；　that　i　can　carry　most　burdens　alone。　ive　never　been　used　to　sharing　my　worries　with　anyone；　and　ive　never　clung　to　a　mother；　but　id　love　to　lay　my　head　on　his　shoulder　and　just　sit　there　quietly。

i　cant；　i　simply　cant　forget　that　dream　of　peters　cheek；　when　everything　was　so　good！　does　he　have　the　same　longing？　is　he　just　too　shy　to　say　he　loves　me？　why　does　he　want　me　near　him　so　much？　oh；　why　doesnt　he　say　something？

ive　got　to　stop；　ive　got　to　be　calm。　ill　try　to　be　strong　again；　and　if　im　patient；　the　rest　will　follow。　but　　and　this　is　the　worst　part　　i　seem　to　be　chasing　him。　im　always　the　one　who　has　to　go　upstairs；　he　never　es　to　me。　but　thats　because　of

the　rooms；　and　he　understands　why　i　object。　oh；　im　sure　he　understands　more　than　i　think　。

yours；　anne　

m。　frank

monday；　april　3；　1944

my　dearest　kitty；

contrary　to　my　usual　practice；　im　going　to　write　you　a　detailed　description　of　the　food　situation；　since　its　bee　a　matter　of　some　difficulty　and　importance；　not　only　here　in　the　annex；　but　in　all　of　holland；　all　of　europe　and　even　beyond。

in　the　twenty…one　months　weve　lived　here；　weve　been　through　a　good　many　〃food　cycles〃　　youll　understand　what　that　means　in　a　moment。　a　〃food　cycle〃　is　a　period　in　which　we　have　only　one　particular　dish　or　type　of　vegetable　to　eat。　for　a　long　time　we　ate　nothing　but　endive。　endive　with　sand；　endive　without　sand；　endive　with　mashed　potatoes；　endive…and…mashed　potato　casserole。　then　it　was　spinach；　followed　by　kohlrabi；　salsify；　cucumbers；　tomatoes；　sauerkraut；　etc。；　etc。

its　not　much　fun　when　you　have　to　eat；　say；　sauer…　kraut　every　day　for　lunch　and　dinner；　but　when　youre　hungry　enough；　you　do　a　lot　of　things。　now；　however；　were　going　through　the　most　delightful　period　so　far；　because　there　are　no　vegetables　at　all。

our　weekly　lunch　menu　consists　of　brown　beans；　split…pea　soup；　potatoes　with　dumplings；　potato　kugel　and；　by　the　grace　of　god；　turnip　greens　or　rotten　carrots；　and　then　its　back　to　brown　beans。　because　of　the　bread　shortage；　we　eat　potatoes　at　every　meal；　starting　with　breakfast；　but　then　we　fry　them　a　little。　to　make　soup　we　use　brown　beans；　navy　beans；　potatoes；　packages　of　vege…　table　soup；　packages　of　chicken　soup　and　packages　of　bean　soup。　there　are　brown　beans　in　everything；　including　the　bread。　for　dinner　we　always　have　potatoes　with　imitation　gravy　and　　thank　goodness　weve　still　got　it　　beet　salad。　i　must　tell　you　about　the　dumplings。

we　make　them　with　government…issue　flour；　water　and　yeast。　theyre　so　gluey　and　tough　that　it　feels　as　if　you　had　rocks　in　your　stomach；　but　oh　well！

the　high　point　is　our　weekly　slice　of　liverwurst；　and　the　jam　on　our　unbuttered　bread。

but　were　still　alive；　and　much　of　the　time　it　still　tastes　good　too！

yours；　anne　

m。　frank

wednesday；　april　5；　1944

my　dearest　kitty；

for　a　long　time　now　i　didnt　know　why　i　was　bothering　to　do　any　schoolwork。　the　end　of　the　war　still　seemed　so　far　away；　so　unreal；　like　a　fairy　tale。　if　the　war　isnt　over　by　september；　i　wont　go　back　to　school；　since　i　dont　want　to　be　two　years　behind。

peter　filled　my　days；　nothing　but　peter；　dreams　and　thoughts　until　saturday　night；　when　i　felt　so　utterly　miserable；　oh；　it　was　awful。　i　held　back　my　tears　when　i　was　with　peter；　laughed　uproariously　with　the　van　daans　as　we　drank　lemon　punch　and　was　cheerful　and　excited；　but　the　minute　i　was　alone　i　knew　i　was　going　to　cry　my　eyes　out。　i　slid　to　the　floor　in　my　nightgown　and　began　by　saying　my　prayers；　very　fervently。　then　i　drew　my　knees　to　my　chest；　lay　my　head　on　my　arms　and　cried；　all　huddled　up　on　the　bare　floor。　a　loud　sob　brought　me　back　down　to　earth；　and　i　choked　back　my　tears；　since　i　didnt　want　anyone　next　door　to　hear　me。　then　i　tried　to　pull　myself　together；　saying　over　and　over；　〃i　must；　i　must；　i　must。　。　。　〃　stiff　from　sitting　in　such　an　unusual　position；　i　fell　back　against　the　side　of　the　bed　and　kept　up　my　struggle　until　just　before　ten…thirty；　when　i　climbed　back　into　bed。　it　was　over！

and　now　its　really　over。　i　finally　realized　that　i　must　do　my　schoolwork　to　keep　from　being　ignorant；　to　get　on　in　life；　to　bee　a　journalist；　because　thats　what　i　want！　i　know　i　can　write。　a　few　of　my　stories　are　good；　my　descriptions　of　the　secret　annex　are　humorous；　much　of　my　diary　is　vivid　and　alive；　but。　。　。　it　remains　to　be　seen　whether　i　really　have　talent。

〃evas　dream〃　is　my　best　fairy　tale；　and　the　odd　thing　is　that　i　dont　have　the　faintest　idea　where　it　came　from。　parts　of　〃cadys　life〃　are　also　good；　but　as　a　whole　its　nothing　special。　im　my　best　and　harshest　critic。　i　know　whats　good　and　what　isnt。

unless　you　write　yourself；　you　cant　know　how　wonderful　it　is；　i　always　used　to　bemoan　the　fact　that　i　couldnt　draw；　but　now　im　overjoyed　that　at　least　i　can　write。

and　if　i　dont　have　the　talent　to　write　books　or　newspaper　articles；　i　can　always　write　for　myself。　but　i　want　to　achieve　more　than　that。　i　cant　imagine　having　to　live　like　mother；　mrs。　van　daan　and　all　the　women　who　go　about　their　work　and　are　then　forgotten。　i　need　to　have　something　besides　a　husband