and　he　likes　to　be　left　alone；　so　i　dont　know　how　much　he　likes　me。　in　any　case；　were　getting　to　know　each　other　a　little　better。　i　wish　we　dared　to　say　more。　but　who　knows；　maybe　that　time　will　e　sooner　than　i　think！
  once　or　twice　a　day　he　gives　me　a　knowing　glance；　i　wink　back；　and　were　both　happy。　it　seems　crazy　to　talk　about　his　being　happy；　and　yet　i　have　the　overwhelming　feeling　he　thinks　the　same　way　i　do。
  yours；　anne
  m。　frank
  saturday；　march　4；　1944
  dear　kitty；
  this　is　the　first　saturday　in　months　that　hasnt　been　tiresome；　dreary　and　boring。　the　reason　is　peter。　this　morning　as　i　was　on　my　way　to　the　attic　to　hang　up　my　apron；　father　asked　whether　i　wanted　to　stay　and　practice　my　french；　and　i　said　yes。　we　spoke　french　together　for　a　while　and　i　explained　something　to　peter；　and　then　we　worked　on　our　english。　father　read　aloud　from　dickens；　and　i　was　in　seventh　heaven；　since　i　was　sitting　on　fathers　chair；　close　to　peter。
  i　went　downstairs　at　quarter　to　eleven。　when　i　went　back　up　at　eleven…thirty；　peter　was　already　waiting　for　me　on　the　stairs。　we　talked　until　quarter　to　one。　whenever　i　leave　the　room；　for　example　after　a　meal；　and　peter　has　a　chance　and　no　one　else　can　hear；　he　says；　〃bye；　anne；　see　you　later。鈥?br />
  oh；　im　so　happy！　i　wonder　if　hes　going　to　fall　in　love　with　me　after　all？　in　any　case；　hes　a　nice　boy；　and　you　have　no　idea　how　good　it　is　to　talk　to　him！
  mrs。　van　d。　thinks　its　all　right　for　me　to　talk　to　peter；　but　today　she　asked　me　teasingly；　〃can　i　trust　you　two　up　there？鈥?br />
  〃of　course；〃　i　protested。　〃i　take　that　as　an　insult！鈥?br />
  morning；　noon　and　night；　i　look　forward　to　seeing　peter。
  yours；　anne
  m。　frank
  ps。　before　i　forget；　last　night　everything　was　blanketed　in　snow。　now　its　thawed　and　theres　almost　nothing　left。
  monday；　march　6；　1944
  dearest　kitty；
  ever　since　peter　told　me　about　his　parents；　ive　felt　a　certain　sense　of　responsibthty　toward　him…dont　you　think　thats　strange？　its　as　though　their　quarrels　were　just　as　much　my　business　as　his；　and　yet　i　dont　dare　bring　it　up　anymore；　because　im　afraid　it　makes　him　unfortable。　i　wouldnt　want　to　intrude；　not　for　all　the　money　in　the　world。
  i　can　tell　by　peters　face　that　he　ponders　things　just　as　deeply　as　i　do。　last　night　i　was　annoyed　when　mrs。　van　d。　scoffed；　〃the　thinker！〃　peter　flushed　and　looked　embarrassed；　and　i　nearly　blew　my　top。
  why　dont　these　people　keep　their　mouths　shut？
  you　cant　imagine　what　its　like　to　have　to　stand　on　the　sidelines　and　see　how　lonely　he　is；　without　being　able　to　do　anything。　i　can　imagine；　as　if　i　were　in　his　place；　how　despondent　he　must　sometimes　feel　at　the　quarrels。　and　about　love。　poor　peter；　he　needs　to　be　loved　so　much！
  it　sounded　so　cold　when　he　said　he　didnt　need　any　friends。　oh；　hes　so　wrong！　i　dont　think　he　means　it。　he　clings　to　his　masculinity；　his　solitude　and　his　feigned　indif…　ference　so　he　can　maintain　his　role；　so　hell　never；　ever　have　to　show　his　feelings。
  poor　peter；　how　long　can　he　keep　it　up？　wont　he　explode　from　this　superhuman　effort？
  oh；　peter；　if　only　i　could　help　you；　if　only　you　would　let　me！　together　we　could　banish　our　loneliness；　yours　and　mine！
  ive　been　doing　a　great　deal　of　thinking；　but　not　saying　much。　im　happy　when　i　see　him；　and　happier　still　if　the　sun　shines　when　were　together。　i　washed　my　hair　yesterday；　and　because　i　knew　he　was　next　door；　i　was　very　rambunctious。　i　couldnt　help　it；　the　more　quiet　and　serious　i　am　on　the　inside；　the　noisier　i　get　on　the　outside！
  who　will　be　the　first　to　discover　the　chink　in　my　armor？
  its　just　as　well　that　the　van　daans　dont　have　a　daughter。　my　conquest　could　never　be　so　challenging；　so　beautiful　and　so　nice　with　someone　of　the　same　sex！
  yours；　anne
  m。　frank
  ps。　you　know　im　always　honest　with　you；　so　i　think　i　should　tell　you　that　i　live　from　one　encounter　to　the　next。　i　keep　hoping　to　discover　that　hes　dying　to　see　me；　and　im　in　raptures　when　i　notice　his　bashful　attempts。　i　think　hed　like　to　be　able　to　express　himself　as　easily　as　i　do；　little　does　he　know　its　his　awkwardness　that　i　find　so　touching。
  tuesday；　march　7；1944
  dearest　kitty；
  when　i　think　back　to　my　life　in　1942；　it　all　seems　so　unreal。　the　anne　frank　who　enjoyed　that　heavenly　existence　was　pletely　different　from　the　one　who　has　grown　wise　within　these　walls。　yes；　it　was　heavenly。　five　admirers　on　every　street　corner；　twenty　or　so　friends；　the　favorite　of　most　of　my　teachers；　spoiled　rotten　by　father　and　mother；　bags　full　of　candy　and　a　big　allowance。　what　more　could　anyone　ask　for？
  youre　probably　wondering　how　i　could　have　charmed　all　those　people。　peter　says　it　s　ecause　i　m　〃attractive；〃　but　that　isnt　it　entirely。　the　teachers　were　amused　and　entertained　by　my　clever　answers；　my　witty　remarks；　my　smthng　face　and　my　critical　mind。　thats　all　i　was：　a　terrible　flirt；　coquettish　and　amusing。　i　had　a　few　plus　points；　which　kept　me　in　everybodys　good　graces：　i　was　hardworking；　honest　and　generous。　i　would　never　have　refused　anyone　who　wanted　to　peek　at　my　answers；　i　was　magnanimous　with　my　candy；　and　i　wasnt　stuck…up。
  would　all　that　admiration　eventually　have　made　me　overconfident？　its　a　good　thing　that；　at　the　height　of　my　glory；　i　was　suddenly　plunged　into　reality。　it　took　me　more　than　a　year　to　get　used　to　doing　without　admiration。
  how　did　they　see　me　at　school？　as　the　class　edian；　the　eternal　ringleader；　never　in　a　bad　mood；　never　a　crybaby。　was　it　any　wonder　that　everyone　wanted　to　bicycle　to　school　with　me　or　do　me　little　favors？
  i　look　back　at　that　anne　frank　as　a　pleasant；　amusing；　but　superficial　girl；　who　has　nothing　to　do　with　me。　what　did　peter　say　about　me？　〃whenever　i　saw　you；　you　were
  surrounded　by　a　flock　of　girls　and　at　least　two　boys；　you　were　always　laughing；　and　you　were　always　the　center　of　attention！〃　he　was　right。
  whats　remained　of　that　anne　frank？　oh；　i　havent　forgotten　how　to　laugh　or　toss　off　a　remark；　im　just　as　good；　if　not　better；　at　raking　people　over　the　coals；　and　i　can　still　flirt　and　be　amusing；　if　i　want　to　be　。　。　。
  but　theres　the　catch。　id　like　to　live　that　seemingly　carefree　and　happy　life　for　an　evening；　a　few　days；　a　week。　at　the　end　of　that　week　id　be　exhausted；　and　would　be　grateful　to　the　first　person　to　talk　to　me　about　something　meaningful。　i　want　friends；　not　admirers。　peo…　ple　who　respect　me　for　my　character　and　my　deeds；　not　my　flattering　smile。　the　circle　around　me　would　be　much　smaller；　but　what　does　that　matter；　as　long　as　theyre　sincere？
  in　spite　of　everything；　i　wasnt　altogether　happy　in　1942；　i　often　felt　id　been　deserted；　but　because　i　was　on　the　go　all　day　long；　i　didnt　think　about　it。　i　enjoyed　myself　as　much　as　i　could；　trying　consciously　or　unconsciously　to　fill　the　void　with　jokes。
  looking　back；　i　realize　that　this　period　of　my　life　has　irrevocably　e　to　a　close；　my　happy…go…lucky；　carefree　schooldays　are　gone　forever。　i　dont　even　miss　them。　ive　outgrown　them。　i　can　no　longer　just　kid　around；　since　my　serious　side　is　always　there。
  i　see　my　life　up　to　new　years　1944　as　if　i　were　looking　through　a　powerful　magnifying　glass。　when　i　was　at　home；　my　life　was　filled　with　sunshine。　then；　in　the　middle　of　1942；　everything　changed　overnight。　the　quarrels；　the　accusations　　i　couldnt　take　it　all　in。　i　was　caught　off　guard；　and　the　only　way　i　knew　to　keep　my　bearings　was　to　talk　back。
  the　first　half　of　1943　brought　crying　spells；　loneliness　and　the　gradual　realization　of　my　faults　and　short…　ings；　which　were　numerous　and　seemed　even　more　so。　i　filled　the　day　with　chatter；　tried　to　draw　pim　closer　to　me　and　failed。　this　left　me　on　my　own　to　face　the　difficult　task　of　improving　myself　so　i　wouldnt　have　to　hear　their　reproaches；　because　they　made　me　so　despondent。
  the　second　half　of　the　year　was　slightly　better。　i　became　a　teenager；　and　was　treated　more　like　a　grown…up。　i　began　to　think　about　things　and　to　write　stories；　finally　ing　to　the　conclusion　that　the　others　no　longer　had　anything　to　do　with　me。　they　had　no　right　to　swing　me　back　and　forth　like　a　pendulum　on　a　clock。　i　wanted　to　change　myself　in　my　own　way。　i　realized　i　could　man…　age　without　my　mother；　pletely　and　totally；　and　that　hurt。　but　what　affected　me　even　more　was　the
  realization　that　i　was　never　going　to　be　able　to　confide　in　father。　i　didnt　trust　anyone　but　myself。
  after　new　years　the　second　big　change　occurred：　my　dream；　through　which　i　discovered　my　longing　for　。　。　。　a　boy；　not　for　a　girlfriend；　but　for　a　boyfriend。　i　also　discovered　an　inner　happiness　underneath　my　superficial　and　cheerful　exterior。　from　time　to　time　i　was　quiet。　now　i　live　only　for　peter；　since　what　happens　to　me　in　the　future　depends　largely　on　him！
  i　lie　in　bed　at　night；　after　ending　my　prayers　with　the　words　〃ich　janke　air　fur　all　das　cute　una　liebe　una　schone；〃*　＇*　thank　you；　god；　for　all　that　is　good　and　dear　and　beautiful。＇　and　im　filled　with　joy。　i　think　of　going　into　hiding；　my　health　and　my　whole　being　as　das　cute；　peters　love　（which　is　still　so　new　and　fragile　and　which　neither　of　us　dares　to　say　aloud）；　the　future；　happiness　and　love　as　das　liebe；　the　world；　nature　and　the　tremendous　beauty　of　everything；　all　that　splendor；　as　das　schone。
  at　such　moments　i　dont　th