still hurts to think hed forgotten me pletely。 i saw his face so clearly； i knew for certain that no one but peter could have stuck in my mind that way。
ive been in an utter state of confusion today。 when father kissed me this morning； i wanted to shout； 〃oh； if only you were peter！〃 ive been thinking of him constantly； and all day long ive been repeating to myself； 〃oh； petel； my darling； darling petel 。 。
。”
where can i find help？ i simply have to go on living and praying to god that； if we ever get out of here； peters path will cross mine and hell gaze into my eyes； read the love in them and say； 〃oh； anne； if id only known； id have e to you long ago。”
once when father and i were talking about sex； he said i was too young to understand that kind of desire。 but i thought i did understand it； and now im sure i do。 nothing is as dear to me now as my darling petel！
i saw my face in the mirror； and it looked so different。 my eyes were clear and deep； my cheeks were rosy； which they hadnt been in weeks； my mouth was much softer。 i looked happy； and yet there was something so sad in my expression that the smile immediately faded from my lips。 im not happy； since i know petels not thinking of me； and yet i can still feel his beautiful eyes gazing at me and his cool； soft cheek against mine。 。 。 oh； petel； petel； how am i ever going to free myself from your image？ wouldnt anyone who took your place be a poor substitute？ i love you； with a love so great that it simply couldnt keep growing inside my heart； but had to leap out and reveal itself in all its magnitude。
a week ago； even a day ago； if youd asked me； 〃which of your friends do you think youd be most likely to marry？〃 id have answered； 〃sally； since he makes me feel
good； peaceful and safe！〃 but now id cry； 〃petel； because i love him with all my heart and all my soul。 i surrender myself pletely！〃 except for that one thing： he may touch my face； but thats as far as it goes。
this morning i imagined i was in the front attic with petel； sitting on the floor by the windows； and after talking for a while； we both began to cry。 moments later i felt his mouth and his wonderful cheek！ oh； petel； e to me。 think of me； my dearest petel！
wednesday； january 12； 1944
dearest kitty；
beps been back for the last two weeks； though her sister wont be allowed back at school until next week。 bep herself spent two days in bed with a bad cold。 miep and jan were also out for two days； with upset stomachs。
im currently going through a dance and ballet craze and am diligently practicing my dance steps every evening。 ive made an ultramodern dance costume out of a lacy lavender slip belonging to momsy。 bias tape is threaded through the top and tied just above the bust。 a pink corded ribbon pletes the ensemble。 i tried to turn my tennis shoes into ballet slippers； but with no success。 my stiff limbs are well on the way to being as limber as they used to be。 a terrific exercise is to sit on the floor； place a heel in each hand and raise both legs in the air。 i have to sit on a cushion； because otherwise my poor backside really takes a beating。
everyone here is reading a book called a cloudless morning。 mother thought it was extremely good because it describes a number of adolescent problems。 i thought to myself； a bit ironically； 〃why dont you take more interest in your own adolescents first！”
i think mother believes that margot and i have a better relationship with our parents than anyone in the whole wide world； and that no mother is more involved in the lives of her children than she is。 she must have my sister in mind； since i dont believe margot has the same problems and thoughts as i do。 far be it from me to point out to mother that one of her daughters is not at all what she imagines。 shed be pletely bewildered； and anyway； shed never be able to change； id like to spare her that grief； especially since i know that everything would remain the same。 mother does sense that margot loves her much more than i do； but she thinks im just going through a phase。
margots gotten much nicer。 she seems a lot different than she used to be。 shes not nearly as catty these days and is being a real friend。 she no longer thinks of me as a litde kid who doesnt count。
its funny； but i can sometimes see myself as others see me。 i take a leisurely look at the person called 〃anne frank〃 and browse through the pages of her life as though she were a stranger。
before i came here； when i didnt think about things as much as i do now； i occasionally had the feeling that i didnt belong to momsy； pim and margot and that i would always be an outsider。 i sometimes went around for six months at a time pretending i was an orphan。 then id chastise myself for playing the victim； when really； id always been so fortunate。 after that id force myself to be friendly for a while。 every morning when i heard footsteps on the stairs； i hoped it would be mother ing to say good morning。 id greet her warmly； because i honesly did look forward to her affectionate glance。 but then shed snap at me for having made some ment or other （and id go off to school feeling pletely discouraged。
on the way home id make excuses for her； telling myself that she had so many worries。 id arrive home in high spirits； chatting nineteen to the dozen； until the events of the morning would repeat themselves and id leave the room with my schoolbag in my hand and a pensive look on my face。 sometimes id decide to stay angry； but then i always had so much to talk about after school that id forget my resolution and want mother to stop whatever she was doing and lend a willing ear。 then the time would e once more when i no longer listened for the steps on the stairs and felt lonely and cried into my pillow every night。
everything has gotten much worse here。 but you already knew that。 now god has sent someone to help me： peter。 i fondle my pendant； press it to my lips and think； 〃what do i care！ petel is mine and nobody knows it！〃 with this in mind； i can rise above every nasty remark。 which of the people here would suspect that so much is going on in the mind of a teenage girl？
saturday； january 15； 1944
my dearest kitty；
theres no reason for me to go on describing all our quarrels and arguments down to the last detail。 its enough to tell you that weve divided many things like meat and fats and oils and are frying our own potatoes。 recently weve been eating a little extra rye bread because by four oclock were so hungry for dinner we can barely
control our rumbling stomachs。
mothers birthday is rapidly approaching。 she received some extra sugar from mr。
kugler； which sparked off jealousy on the part of the van daans； because mrs。 van d。
didnt receive any on her birthday。 but whats the point of boring you with harsh words； spiteful conversations and tears when you know they bore us even more？
mother has expressed a wish； which isnt likely to e true any time soon： not to have to see mr。 van daans face for two whole weeks。 i wonder if everyone who shares a house sooner or later ends up at odds with their fellow residents。 or have we just had a stroke of bad luck？ at mealtime； when dussel helps himself to a quarter of the half…filled gravy boat and leaves the rest of us to do without； i lose my appetite and feel like jumping to my feet； knocking him off his chair and throwing him out the door。
are most people so stingy and selfish？ ive gained some insight into human nature since i came here； which is good； but ive had enough for the present。 peter says the same。
the war is going to go on despite our quarrels and our longing for freedom and fresh air； so we should try to make the best of our stay here。
im preaching； but i also believe that if i live here much longer； ill turn into a dried…up old beanstalk。 and all i really want is to be an honest…to…goodness teenager！
yours； anne
wednesday evening； january 19； 1944
dearest kitty；
i （there i go again！） dont know whats happened； but since my dream i keep noticing how ive changed。 by the way； i dreamed about peter again last night and once again i felt his eyes penetrate mine； but this dream was less vivid and not quite as beautiful as the last。
you know that i always used to be jealous of margots relationship with father。
theres not a trace of my jealousy left now； i still feel hurt when fathers nerves cause him to be unreasonable toward me； but then i think； 〃i cant blame you for being the way you are。 you talk so much about the minds of children and adolescents；
but you dont know the first thing about them！〃 i long for more than fathers affection； more than his hugs and kisses。 isnt it awful of me to be so preoccupied with myself？ shouldnt i； who want to be good and kind； forgive them first？ i forgive mother too； but every time she makes a sarcastic remark or laughs at me； its all i can do to control myself。
i know im far from being what i should； will i ever be？
anne frank
p。s。 father asked if i told you about the cake。 for mothers birthday； she received a real mocha cake； prewar quality； from the office。 it was a really nice day！ but at the moment theres no room in my head for things like that。
saturday； january 22； 194