yours；　anne
  tuesday；　september　29；　1942
  dearest　kitty；
  the　strangest　things　happen　to　you　when　youre　in　hiding！　try　to　picture　this。
  because　we　dont　have　a　bathtub；　we　wash　ourselves　in　a　washtub；　and　because　theres　only　hot　water　in　the　office　（by　which　i　mean　the　entire　lower　floor）；　the　seven　of　us　take　turns　making　the　most　of　this　great　opportunity。　but　since　none　of　us　are　alike　and　are　all　plagued　by　varying　degrees　of　modesty；　each　member　of　the
  family　has　selected　a　different　place　to　wash。　peter　takes　a　bath　in　the　office　kitchen；　even　though　it　has　a　glass　door。　when　its　time　for　his　bath；　he　goes　around　to　each　of　us　in　turn　and　announces　that　we　shouldnt　walk　past　the　kitchen　for　the　next　half　hour。　he　considers　this　measure　to　be　sufficient。　mr。　van　d。　takes　his　bath　upstairs；　figuring　that　the　safety　of　his　own　room　outweighs　the　difficulty　of　having　to　carry　the　hot　water　up　all　those　stairs。　mrs。　van　d。　has　yet　to　take　a　bath；　shes　waiting　to　see　which　is　the　best　place。　father　bathes　in　the　private　office　and　mother　in　the　kitchen　behind　a　fire　screen；　while　margot　and　i　have　declared　the　front　office　to　be　our　bathing　grounds。　since　the　curtains　are　drawn　on　saturday　afternoon；　we　scrub　ourselves　in　the　dark；　while　the　one　who　isnt　in　the　bath　looks　out　the　window　through　a　chink　in　the　curtains　and　gazes　in　wonder　at　the　endlessly　amusing　people。
  a　week　ago　i　decided　i　didnt　like　this　spot　and　have　been　on　the　lookout　for　more　fortable　bathing　quarters。　it　was　peter　who　gave　me　the　idea　of　setting　my　washtub　in　the　spacious　office　bathroom。　i　can　sit　down；　turn　on　the　light；　lock　the　door；　pour　out　the　water　without　anyones　help；　and　all　without　the　fear　of　being　seen。
  i　used　my　lovely　bathroom　for　the　first　time　on　sunday　and；　strange　as　it　may　seem；　i　like　it　better　than　any　other　place。
  the　plumber　was　at　work　downstairs　on　wednesday；　moving　the　water　pipes　and　drains　from　the　office　bathroom　to　the　hallway　so　the　pipes　wont　freeze　during　a　cold　winter。　the　plumbers　visit　was　far　from　pleasant。　not　only　were　we　not　allowed　to　run　water　during　the　day；　but　the　bathroom　was　also　off…limits。　ill　tell　you　how　we　handled　this　problem；　you　may　find　it　unseemly　of　me　to　bring　it　up；　but　im　not　so　prudish　about　matters　of　this　kind。　on　the　day　of　our　arrival；　father　and　i　improvised　a　chamber　pot；　sacrificing　a　canning　jar　for　this　purpose。　for　the　duration　of　the　plumbers　visit；　canning　jars　were　put　into　service　during　the　daytime　to　hold　our　calls　of　nature。　as　far　as　i　was　concerned；　this　wasnt　half　as　difficult　as　having　to　sit　still　all　day　and　not　say　a　word。　you　can　imagine　how　hard　that　was　for　miss　quack；　quack；　quack。　on　ordinary　days　we　have　to　speak　in　a　whisper；　not　being　able　to　talk　or　move　at　all　is　ten　times　worse。
  after　three　days　of　constant　sitting；　my　backside　was　stiff　and　sore。　nightly　calisthenics　helped。
  yours；　anne
  锛凤挤锛贰i锛s锛╱o锛达几锛础?br />
  NOVEMBER；　1942
  锝炲皬锛滆t　xt锛嬶紜澶╋紴鍫?br />
  monday；　november　2；　1942
  dear　kitty；
  bep　stayed　with　us　friday　evening。　it　was　fun；　but　she　didnt　sleep　very　well　because　shed　drunk　some　wine。　for　the　rest；　theres　nothing　special　to　report。　i　had　an　awful　headache　yesterday　and　went　to　bed　early。　margots　being　exasperating　again。
  this　morning　i　began　sorting　out　an　index　card　file　from　the　office；　because　itd　fallen　over　and　gotten　all　mixed　up。　before　long　i　was　going　nuts。　i　asked　margot　and　peter　to　help；　but　they　were　too　lazy；　so　i　put　it　away。
  im　not　crazy　enough　to　do　it　all　by　myself！
  anne　frank
  ps。　i　forgot　to　mention　the　important　news　that　im　probably　going　to　get　my　period　soon。　i　can　tell　because　i　keep　finding　a　whitish　smear　in　my　panties；　and　mother　predicted　it　would　start　soon。　i　can　hardly　wait。　its　such　a　momentous　event。　too　bad　i　cant　use　sanitary　napkins；　but　you　cant　get　them　anymore；　and　mamas　tampons　can　be　used　only　by　women　whove　had　a　baby。　i　ment　added　by　anne　on　january　22；　1944：　i　wouldnt　be　able　to　write　that　kind　of　thing　anymore。
  now　that　im　rereading　my　diary　after　a　year　and　a　half；　im　surprised　at　my　childish　innocence。　deep　down　i　know　i　could　never　be　that　innocent　again；　however　much　id　like　to　be。　i　can　understand　the　mood　chanaes　and　the　ments　about　margot；　mother　and　father　as　if　id　written　them　only　yesterday；　but　i　cant　imagine　writina　so　openly　about　other　matters。　it　embarrasses　me　areatly　to　read　the　panes　dealina　with　subjects　that　i　remembered　as　beina　nicer　than　they　actually　were。　my　descriptions　are　so　indelicate。　but　enouah　of　that。
  i　can　also　understand　my　homesickness　and　yearning　for　moortje。　the　whole　time　ive　been　here　ive　longed　unconsciously　and　at　times　consciously　for　trust；　love　and
  physical　affection。　this　longing　may　change　in　intensity；　but　its　always　there。
  thursday；　november　5；　1942
  dear　kitty；
  the　british　have　finally　scored　a　few　successes　in　africa　and　stalingrad　hasnt　fallen　yet；　so　the　men　are　happy　and　we　had　coffee　and　tea　this　morning。　for　the　rest；　nothing　special　to　report。
  this　week　ive　been　reading　a　lot　and　doing　little　work。　thats　the　way　things　ought　to　be。　thats　surely　the　road　to　success。
  mother　and　i　are　getting　along　better　lately；　but　were　never　close。　fathers　not　very　open　about　his　feelings；　but　hes　the　same　sweetheart　hes　always　been。　we　lit　the　stove　a　few　days　ago　and　the　entire　room　is　still　filled　with　smoke。　i　prefer　central　heating；　and　im　probably　not　the　only　one。　margots　a　stinker　（theres　no　other　word　for　it）；　a　constant　source　of　irritation；　morning；　noon　and　night。
  anne　frank
  saturday；　november　7；　1942
  dearest　kitty；
  mothers　nerves　are　very　much　on　edge；　and　that　doesnt　bode　well　for　me。　is　it　just　a　coincidence　that　father　and　mother　never　scold　margot　and　always　blame　me　for　everything？　last　night；　for　example；　margot　was　reading　a　book　with　beautiful　illustrations；　she　got　up　and　put　the　book　aside　for　later。　i　wasnt　doing　anything；　so　i　picked　it　up　and　began　looking　at　the　pictures。　margot　carne　back；　saw　〃her〃　book　in　my　hands；　knitted　her　brow　and　angrily　demanded　the　book　back。　i　wanted　to　look　through　it　some　more。　margot　got　madder　by　the　minute；　and　mother　butted　in：
  〃margot　was　reading　that　book；　give　it　back　to　her。鈥?br />
  father　came　in；　and　without　even　knowing　what　was　going　on；　saw　that　margot　was　being　wronged　and　lashed　out　at　me：　〃id　like　to　see　what　youd　do　if　margot　was　looking　at　one　of　your　books！鈥?br />
  i　promptly　gave　in；　put　the　book　down　and；　according　to　them；　left　the　room　in　a　huff。〃　i　was　neither　huffy　nor　cross；　but　merely　sad。
  it　wasnt　right　of　father　to　pass　judgment　without　knowing　what　the　issue　was。　i　would　have　given　the　book　to　margot　myself；　and　a　lot　sooner；　if　father　and　mother　hadnt　intervened　and　rushed　to　take　margots　part；　as　if　she　were　suffering　some　great　injustice。
  of　course；　mother　took　margots　side；　they　always　take　each　others　sides。　im　so　used　to　it　that　ive　bee　pletely　indifferent　to　mothers　rebukes　and　margots　moodiness。　i　love　them；　but　only　because　theyre　mother　and　margot。　i　dont　give　a　darn　about　them　as　people。　as　far　as　im　concerned；　they　can　go　jump　in　a　lake。　its　different　with　father。　when　i　see　him　being　partial　to　margot；　approving　margots　every　action；　praising　her；　hugging　her；　i　feel　a　gnawing　ache　inside；　because　im　crazy　about　him。　i　model　myself　after　father；　and　theres　no　one　in　the　world　i　love　more。
  he　doesnt　realize　that　he　treats　margot　differently　than　he　does　me：　margot　just　happens　to　be　the　smartest；　the　kindest；　the　prettiest　and　the　best。　but　i　have　a　right　to　be　taken　seriously　too。　ive　always　been　the　clown　and　mischief　maker　of　the　family；　ive　always　had　to　pay　double　for　my　sins：　once　with　scoldings　and　then　again　with　my　own　sense　of　despair。　im　no　longer　satisfied　with　the　meaningless　affection　or　the　supposedly　serious　talks。　i　long　for　something　from　father　that　hes　incapable　of　giving。　im　not　jealous　of　margot；　i　never　have　been。　im　not　envious　of　her　brains　or　her　beauty。　its　just　that　id　like　to　feel　that　father　really　loves　me；　not　because　im　his　child；　but　because　im　me；　anne。
  i　cling　to　father　because　my　contempt　of　mother　is　growing　daily　and　its　only　through　him　that　im　able　to　retain　the　last　ounce　of　family　feeling　i　have　left。　he　doesnt　understand　that　i　sometimes　need　to　vent　my　feelings　for　mother。　he　doesnt　want　to　talk　about　it；　and　he　avoids　any　discussion　involving　mothers　failings。　and　yet　mother；　with　all　her　shortings；　is　tougher　for　me　to　deal　with。　i　dont　know　how　i　should　act。　i　cant　very　well　confront　her　with　her　carelessness；　her　sarcasm　and　her　hard…heartedness；　yet　i　cant　continue　to　take　the　blame　for　everything。
  im　the　opposite　of　mother；　so　of　course　we　clash。　i　dont　mean　to　judge　her；　i　dont　have　that　right。　im　simply　looking　at　her　as　a　mother。　shes　not　a　mother　to　me　　i　have　to　mother　myself。　ive　cut　myself　adrift　from　them。　im　charting　my　own　course；　and　well　see　where　it　leads　me。　i　have　no　choice；　because　i　can　picture　what　a　mother　and　a　wife　should　be　and　cant　seem　to　find　anything　of　the　sort　in　the　woman　im　supposed　to　call　〃mother。鈥?br />
  i　tell　myself　time　and　again　to　overlook　mothers　bad　example。　i　only