oat　and　worn…out　shoes；　a　shopping　bag　dangling　from　their　arms；　with　faces　that　are　either　grim　or　good…humored；　depending　on　the　mood　of　their　husbands。
  yours；　anne
  tuesday；　december　22；　1942
  dearest　kitty；
  the　annex　was　delighted　to　hear　that　well　all　be　receiving　an　extra　quarter　pound　of　butter　for　christmas。　according　to　the　newspaper；　everyone　is　entitled　to　half　a　pound；　but　they　mean　those　lucky　souls　who　get　their　ration　books　from　the　government；　not　jews　in　hiding　like　us　who　can　only　afford　to　buy　four　rather　than　eight　ration　books　on　the　black　market。　each　of　us　is　going　to　bake　something　with　the　butter。　this　morning　i　made　two　cakes　and　a　batch　of　cookies。　its　very　busy　upstairs；　and　mother　has　informed　me　that　im　not　to　do　any　studying　or　reading　until　all　the　household　chores　have　been　finished。
  mrs。　van　daan　is　lying　in　bed　nursing　her　bruised　rib。　she　plains　all　day　long；　constantly　demands　that　the　bandages　be　changed　and　is　generally　dissatisfied　with　everything。　ill　be　glad　when　she　gets　back　on　her　feet　and　can　clean　up　after　herself　because；　i　must　admit；　shes　extraordinarily　hardworking　and　neat；　and　as　long　as　shes　in　good　physical　and　mental　condition；　shes　quite　cheerful。
  as　if　i　dont　hear　〃shh；　shh〃　enough　during　the　day　because　im　always　making　〃too　much〃　noise；　my　dear　roommate　has　e　up　with　the　idea　of　saying　〃shh；　shh〃　to　me　all　night　too。　according　to　him；　i　shouldnt　even　turn　over。　i　refuse　to　take　any　notice　of　him；　and　the　next　time　he　shushes　me；　im　going　to　shush　him　right　back。
  he　gets　more　exasperating　and　egotistical　as　the　days　go　by。　except　for　the　first　week；　i　havent　seen　even　one　of　the　cookies　he　so　generously　promised　me。　hes　partic　ularly　infuriating　on　sundays；　when　he　switches　on　the　light　at　the　crack　of　dawn　to　exercise　for　ten　minutes。
  to　me；　the　torment　seems　to　last　for　hours；　since　the　chairs　i　use　to　make　my　bed　longer　are　constantly　being　jiggled　under　my　sleepy　head。　after　rounding　off　his　limbering…up　exercises　with　a　few　vigorous　arm　swings；　his　lordship　begins　dressing。
  his　underwear　is　hanging　on　a　hook；　so　first　he　lumbers　over　to　get　it　and　then　lumbers　back；　past　my　bed。　but　his　tie　is　on　the　table；　so　once　again　he　pushes　and　bumps　his　way　past　the　chairs。
  but　i　mustnt　waste　any　more　of　your　time　griping　about　disgusting　old　men。　it　wont　help　matters　anyway。　my　plans　for　revenge；　such　as　unscrewing　the　lightbulb；　locking　the　door　and　hiding　his　clothes；　have　unfortu　nately　had　to　be　abandoned　in　the　interests　of　peace。
  oh；　im　being　so　sensible！　weve　got　to　be　reasonable　about　everything　we　do　here：　studying；　listen　ing；　holding　our　tongues；　helping　others；　being　kind；　making　promises　and　i　dont　know　what　else！　im　afraid　my　mon　sense；　which　was　in　short　supply　to　begin　with；　will　be　used　up　too　quickly　and　i　wont　have　any　left　by　the　time　the　war　is　over。
  yours；　anne
  。；
  JANUARY；　1943
  灏彙ｈ。t｜xt。澶?br />
  wednesday；　january　13；　1943
  dearest　kitty；
  this　morning　i　was　constantly　interrupted；　and　as　a　result　i　havent　been　able　to　finish　a　single　thing　ive　begun。
  we　have　a　new　pastime；　namely；　filling　packages　with　powdered　gravy。　the　gravy　is　one　of　gies　&　co。s　products。　mr。　kugler　hasnt　been　able　to　find　anyone　else　to　fill　the　packages；　and　besides；　its　cheaper　if　we　do　the　job。　its　the　kind　of　work　they
  do　in　prisons。　its　incredibly　boring　and　makes　us　dizzy　and　giggly。
  terrible　things　are　happening　outside。　at　any　time　of　night　and　day；　poor　helpless　people　are　being　dragged　out　of　their　homes。　theyre　allowed　to　take　only　a　knapsack　and　a　little　cash　with　them；　and　even　then；　theyre　robbed　of　these　possessions　on　the　way。　families　are　torn　apart；　men；　women　and　children　are　separated。　children　e　home　from　school　to　find　that　their　parents　have　disap　peared。　women　return　from　shopping　to　find　their　houses　sealed；　their　famthes　gone。　the　christians　in　holland　are　also　living　in　fear　because　their　sons　are　being　sent　to　germany。　everyone　is　scared。　every　night　hundreds　of　planes　pass　over　holland　on　their　way　to　german　cities；　to　sow　their　bombs　on　german　soil。　every　hour　hundreds；　or　maybe　even　thousands；　of　people　are　being　killed　in　russia　and　africa。　no　one　can　keep　out　of　the　conflict；　the　entire　world　is　at　war；　and　even　though　the　allies　are　doing　better；　the　end　is　nowhere　in　sight。
  as　for　us；　were　quite　fortunate。　luckier　than　millions　of　people。　its　quiet　and　safe　here；　and　were　using　our　money　to　buy　food。　were　so　selfish　that　we　talk　about　〃after　the　war〃　and　look　forward　to　new　clothes　and　shoes；　when　actually　we　should　be　saving　every　penny　to　help　others　when　the　war　is　over；　to　salvage　whatever　we　can。
  the　children　in　this　neighborhood　run　around　in　thin　shirts　and　wooden　shoes。　they　have　no　coats；　no　caps；　no　stockings　and　no　one　to　help　them。　gnawing　on　a　carrot　to　still　their　hunger　pangs；　they　walk　from　their　cold　houses　through　cold　streets　to　an　even　colder　classroom。　things　have　gotten　so　bad　in　holland　that　hordes　of　children　stop　passersby　in　the　streets　to　beg　for　a　piece　of　bread。
  i　could　spend　hours　telling　you　about　the　suffering　the　war　has　brought；　but　id　only　make　myself　more　miserable。　all　we　can　do　is　wait；　as　calmly　as　possible；　for　it　to　end。　jews　and　christians　alike　are　waiting；　the　whole　world　is　waiting；　and　many　are　waiting　for　death。
  yours；　anne
  saturday；　january　30；　1943
  dearest　kitty；
  im　seething　with　rage；　yet　i　cant　show　it。　id　like　to　scream；　stamp　my　foot；　give　mother　a　good　shaking；　cry　and　i　dont　know　what　else　because　of　the　nasty　words；
  mocking　looks　and　accusations　that　she　hurls　at　me　day　after　day；　piercing　me　like　arrows　from　a　tightly　strung　bow；　which　are　nearly　impossible　to　pull　from　my　body。
  id　like　to　scream　at　mother；　margot；　the　van　daans；　dussel　and　father　too：　〃leave　me　alone；　let　me　have　at　least　one　night　when　i　dont　cry　myself　to　sleep　with　my　eyes　burning　and　my　head　pounding。　let　me　get　away；　away　from　everything；　away　from　this　world！〃　but　i　cant　do　that。　i　cant　let　them　see　my　doubts；　or　the　wounds　theyve　inflicted　on　me。　i　couldnt　bear　their　sympathy　or　their　good…humored　derision。　it　would　only　make　me　want　to　scream　even　more。
  everyone　thinks　im　showing　off　when　i　talk；　ridicu　lous　when　im　silent；　insolent　when　i　answer；　cunning　when　i　have　a　good　idea；　lazy　when　im　tired；　selfish　when　i　eat　one　bite　more　than　i　should；　stupid；　cowardly；　calculating；　etc。；　etc。　all　day　long　i　hear　nothing　but　what　an　exasperating　child　i　am；　and　although　i　laugh　it　off　and　pretend　not　to　mind；　i　do　mind。　i　wish　i　could　ask　god　to　give　me　another　personality；　one　that　doesnt　antagonize　everyone。
  but　thats　impossible。　im　stuck　with　the　character　i　was　born　with；　and　yet　im　sure　im　not　a　bad　person。　i　do　my　best　to　please　everyone；　more　than　theyd　ever　suspect　in　a　million　years。　when　im　upstairs；　i　try　to　laugh　it　off　because　i　dont　want　them　to　see　my　troubles。
  more　than　once；　after　a　series　of　absurd　reproaches；　ive　snapped　at　mother：　〃i　dont　care　what　you　say。　why　dont　you　just　wash　your　hands　of　me　　im　a　hopeless　case。〃　of　course；　shed　tell　me　not　to　talk　back　and　virtually　ignore　me　for　two　days。
  then　suddenly　all　would　be　forgotten　and　shed　treat　me　like　everyone　else。
  its　impossible　for　me　to　be　all　smiles　one　day　and　venomous　the　next。　id　rather　choose　the　golden　mean；　which　isnt　so　golden；　and　keep　my　thoughts　to　myself。
  perhaps　sometime　ill　treat　the　others　with　the　same　contempt　as　they　treat　me。　oh；　if　only　i　could。
  yours；　anne
  銆€ww銆€w銆€。銆€xia銆€oshu銆€otxt銆€m
  FEBRUARY；　1943
  锛堝皬锛忥紡璇达紡锛弔锛忥紡xt锝?/澶?/鍫傦級
  friday；　february　5；　1943
  dearest　kitty；
  though　its　been　ages　since　ive　written　to　you　about　the　squabbles；　theres　still　no　change。　in　the　begin　ning　mr。　dussel　took　our　soon…forgotten　clashes　very　seriously；　but　now　hes　grown　used　to　them　and　no　longer　tries　to　mediate。
  margot　and　peter　arent　exactly　what　youd　call　〃young〃；　theyre　both　so　quiet　and　boring。　next　to　them；　i　stick　out　like　a　sore　thumb；　and　im　always　being　told；　〃margot　and　peter　dont　act　that　way。　why　dont　you　follow　your　sisters　example！〃　i　hate　that。
  i　confess　that　i　have　absolutely　no　desire　to　be　like　margot。　shes　too　weak…willed　and　passive　to　suit　me；　she　lets　herself　be　swayed　by　others　and　always　backs　down　under　pressure。　i　want　to　have　more　spunk！　but　i　keep　ideas　like　these　to　myself。
  theyd　only　laugh　at　me　if　i　offered　this　in　my　defense。
  during　meals　the　air　is　filled　with　tension。　fortunately；　the　outbursts　are　sometimes　held　in　check　by　the　〃soup　eaters；〃　the　people　from　the　office　who　e　up　to　have　a　cup　of　soup　for　lunch。
  this　afternoon　mr。　van　daan　again　brought　up　the　fact　that　margot　eats　so　little。　〃i　suppose　you　do　it　to　keep　your　figure；〃　he　added　in　a　mocking　tone。
  mother；　who　always　es　to　margots　defense；　said　in　a　loud　voice；　〃i　cant　stand　that　stupid　chatter　of　yours　a　minute　longer。鈥?br />
  mrs。　van　d。　turned　red　as　a　beet。　mr。　van　d。　stared　straight　ahead　and　said　nothing。
  still；　we　often　have　a　good　laugh。　not　long　ago　mrs。　van　d。　was　entertaining　us　with　some　bit　of　nonsense　or　another。　she　was　talking　about　the　past；　about　how　well　she　go