d　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　blushing　by　sis　heyster。　it　was　as　if　shed　addressed　it　directly　to　me。　not　that　i　blush　easily；　but　the　rest　of　the　article　did　apply。　what　she　basically　says　is　that　during　puberty　girls　withdraw　into　themselves　and　begin　thinking　about　the　wondrous　changes　taking　place　in　their　bodies。　i　feel　that　too；　which　probably　accounts　for　my　recent　embarrassment　over　margot；　mother　and　father。　on　the　other　hand；　margot　is　a　lot　shyer　than　i　am；　and　yet　shes　not　in　the　least　embarrassed。
  i　think　that　whats　happening　to　me　is　so　wonderful；　and　i　dont　just　mean　the　changes　taking　place　on　the　outside　of　my　body；　but　also　those　on　the　inside。　i　never　discuss　myself　or　any　of　these　things　with　others；　which　is　why　i　have　to　talk　about　them　to　myself。　whenever　i　get　my　period　（and　thats　only　been　three　times）；　i　have　the　feeling　that　in　spite　of　all　the　pain；　disfort　and　mess；　im　carrying　around　a　sweet　secret。　so　even　though　its　a　nuisance；　in　a　certain　way　im　always　looking　forward　to　the　time　when　ill　feel　that　secret　inside　me　once　again。
  sis　heyster　also　writes　that　girls　my　age　feel　very　insecure　about　themselves　and　are　just　beginning　to　discover　that　theyre　individuals　with　their　own　ideas；　thoughts　and　habits。　id　just　turned　thirteen　when　i　came　here；　so　i　started　thinking　about　myself　and　realized　that　ive　bee　an　〃independent　person〃　sooner　than　most　girls。
  sometimes　when　i　lie　in　bed　at　night　i　feel　a　terrible　urge　to　touch　my　breasts　and　listen　to　the　quiet；　steady　beating　of　my　heart。
  unconsciously；　i　had　these　feelings　even　before　i　came　here。　once　when　i　was　spending　the　night　at　jacques；　i　could　no　longer　restrain　my　curiosity　about　her　body；　which　shed　always　hidden　from　me　and　which　id　never　seen。　i　asked　her　whether；　as　proof　of　our　friendiship；　we　could　touch　each　others　breasts。　jacque　refused。
  i　also　had　a　terrible　desire　to　kiss　her；　which　i　did。　every　time　i　see　a　female　nude；　such　as　the　venus　in　my　art　history　book；　i　go　into　ecstasy。　sometimes　i　find　them　so　exquisite　i　have　to　struggle　to　hold　back　my　tears。　if　only　i　had　a　girlfriend！
  thursday；　january　6；　1944
  dearest　kitty；
  my　longing　for　someone　to　talk　to　has　bee　so　unbearable　that　i　somehow　took　it　into　my　head　to　select　peter　for　this　role。　on　the　few　occasions　when　i　have　gone　to　peters　room　during　the　day；　ive　always　thought　it　was　nice　and　cozy。　but　peters　too
  polite　to　show　someone　the　door　when　theyre　bothering　him；　so　ive　never　dared　to　stay　long。　ive　always　been　afraid　hed　think　i　was　a　pest。　ive　been　looking　for　an　excuse　to　linger　in　his　room　and　get　him　talking　without　his　noticing；　and　yesterday　i　got　my　chance。　peter；　you　see；　is　currently　going　through　a　crossword…puzzle　craze；　and　he　doesnt　do　anything　else　all　day。　i　was　helping　him；　and　we　soon　wound　up　sitting　across　from　each　other　at　his　table；　peter　on　the　chair　and　me　on　the　divan。
  it　gave　me　a　wonderful　feeling　when　i　looked　into　his　dark　blue　eyes　and　saw　how　bashful　my　unexpected　visit　had　made　him。　i　could　read　his　innermost　thoughts；　and　in　his　face　i　saw　a　look　of　helplessness　and　uncertainty　as　to　how　to　behave；　and　at　the　same　time　a　flicker　of　awareness　of　his　masculinity。　i　saw　his　shyness；　and　i　melted。
  i　wanted　to　say；　〃tell　me　about　yourself。　look　beneath　my　chatty　exterior。〃　but　i　found　that　it　was　easier　to　think　up　questions　than　to　ask　them。
  the　evening　came　to　a　close；　and　nothing　happened；　except　that　i　told　him　about　the　article　on　blushing。　not　what　i　wrote　you；　of　course；　just　that　he　would　grow　more　secure　as　he　got　older。　鈥?br />
  that　night　i　lay　in　bed　and　cried　my　eyes　out；　all　the　i　while　making　sure　no　one　could　hear　me。　the　idea　that　i　had　to　beg　peter　for　favors　was　simply　revolting。　but　people　will　do　almost　anything　to　satisfy　their　longings；　take　me；　for　example；　ive　made　up　my　mind　to　visit　peter　more　often　and；　somehow；　get　him　to　talk　to　me。
  you　mustnt　think　im　in　love　with　peter；　because　im　not。　if　the　van　daans　had　had　a　daughter　instead　of　a　son；　id　have　tried　to　make　friends　with　her。
  this　morning　i　woke　up　just　before　seven　and　immediately　remembered　what　id　been　dreaming　about。　i　was　sitting　on　a　chair　and　across　from　me　was　peter。　。　。　peter　schiff。　we　were　looking　at　a　book　of　drawings　by　mary　bos。　the　dream　was　so　vivid　i　can　even　remember　some　of　the　drawings。　but　that　wasnt　all　　the　dream　went　on。　peters　eyes　suddenly　met　mine；　and　i　stared　for　a　long　time　into　those　velvety　brown　eyes。　then　he　said　very　softly；　〃if　id　only　known；　id　have　e　to　you　long　ago！〃　i　turned　abruptly　away；　overe　by　emotion。　and　then　i　felt　a　soft；　oh…so…cool　and　gentle　cheek　against　mine；　and　it　felt　so　good；　so　good　。　。　。
  at　that　point　i　woke　up；　still　feeling　his　cheek　against　mine　and　his　brown　eyes　staring　deep　into　my　heart；　so　deep　that　he　could　read　how　much　id　loved　him　and　how　much　i　still　do。　again　my　eyes　filled　with　tears；　and　i　was　sad　because　id　lost　him　once　more；　and　yet　at　the　same　time　glad　because　i　knew　with　certainty　that　peter　is　still　the　only　one　for　me。
  its　funny；　but　i　often　have　such　vivid　images　in　my　dreams。　one　night　i　saw　grammy*　＇*grammy　is　annes　grandmother　on　her　fathers　side；　and　grandma　her　grandmother　on　her　mothers　side。＇　so　clearly　that　i　could　even　make　out　her　skin　of　soft；　crinkly　velvet。　another　time　grandma　appeared　to　me　as　a　guardian　angel。　after　that　it　was　hanneli；　who　still　symbolizes　to　me　the　suffering　of　my　friends　as　well　as　that　of　jews　in　general；　so　that　when　im　praying　for　her；　im　also　praying　for　all　the　jews　and　all　those　in　need。
  and　now　peter；　my　dearest　peter。　ive　never　had　such　a　clear　mental　image　of　him。　i　dont　need　a　photograph；　i　can　see　him　oh　so　well。
  yours；　anne
  friday；　＇anuary　7；　1944
  dearest　kitty；
  im　such　an　idiot。　i　forgot　that　i　havent　yet　told　you　the　story　of　my　one　true　love。
  when　i　was　a　little　girl；　way　back　in　kindergarten；　i　took　a　liking　to　sally　kimmel。
  his　father　was　gone；　and　he　and　his　mother　lived　with　an　aunt。　one　of　sallys　cousins　was　a　good…looking；　slender；　dark…haired　boy　named　appy；　who　later　turned　out　to　look　like　a　movie　idol　and　aroused　more　admiration　than　the　short；　ical；　chubby　sally。　for　a　long　time　we　went　everywhere　together；　but　aside　from　that；　my　love　was　unrequited　until　peter　crossed　my　path。　i　had　an　out…and…out　crush　on　him。　he　liked　me　too；　and　we　were　inseparable　for　one　whole　summer。　i　can　still　see　us　walking　hand　in　hand　through　our　neighborhood；　peter　in　a　white　cotton　suit　and　me　in　a　short　summer　dress。　at　the　end　of　the　summer　vacation　he　went　to　the　seventh　grade　at　the　middle　school；　while　i　was　in　the　sixth　grade　at　the　grammar　school。　hed　pick　me　up　on　the　way　home；　or　id　pick　him　up。　peter　was　the　ideal　boy：　tall；　good…looking　and　slender；　with　a　serious；　quiet　and　intelligent　face。　he　had　dark　hair；　beautiful　brown　eyes；　ruddy　cheeks　and　a　nicely　pointed　nose。　i　was　crazy　about　his　smile；　which　made　him　look　so　boyish　and　mischievous。
  id　gone　away　to　the　countryside　during　summer　vacation；　and　when　i　came　back；　peter　was　no　longer　at　his　old　address；　hed　moved　and　was　living