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nts and about himself； but its not enough； and every five minutes i wonder why i find myself longing for more。 he used to think i was a real pain in the neck； and the feeling was mutual。 ive changed my mind； but how do i know hes changed his？ i think he has； but that doesnt necessarily mean we have to bee the best of friends； although as far as im concerned； it would make our time here more bearable。 but i wont let this drive me crazy。 i spend enough time thinking about him and dont have to get you all worked up as well； simply because im so miserable！
sunday； march 12； 1944
dearest kitty；
things are getting crazier here as the days go by。
peter hasnt looked at me since yesterday。 hes been acting as if hes mad at me。 im doing my best not to chase after him and to talk to him as little as possible； but its
not easy！ whats going on； what makes him keep me at arms length one minute and rush back to my side the next？ perhaps im imagining that its worse than it really is。
perhaps hes just moody like me； and tomorrow everything will be all right again！
i have the hardest time trying to maintain a normal facade when im feeling so wretched and sad。 i have to talk； help around the house； sit with the others and； above all； act cheerful！ most of all i miss the outdoors and having a place where i can be alone for as long as i want！ i think im getting everything all mixed up； kitty； but then； im in a state of utter confusion： on the one hand； im half crazy with desire for him； can hardly be in the same room without looking at him； and on the other hand； i wonder why he should matter to me so much and why i cant be calm again！
day and night； during every waking hour； i do nothing but ask myself； 〃have you given him enough chance to be alone？ have you been spending too much time upstairs？ do you talk too much about serious subjects hes not yet ready to talk about？ maybe he doesnt even like you？ has it all been your imagination？ but then why has he told you so much about himself？ is he sorry he did？〃 and a whole lot more。
yesterday afternoon i was so worn out by the sad news from the outside that i lay down on my divan for a nap。 all i wanted was to sleep and not have to think。 i slept until four； but then i had to go next door。 it wasnt easy； answering all mothers questions and inventing an excuse to explain my nap to father。 i pleaded a headache； which wasnt a lie； since i did have one。 。 。 on the inside！
ordinary people； ordinary girls； teenagers like myself； would think im a little nuts with all my self…pity。 but thats just it。 i pour my heart out to you； and the rest of the time im as impudent； cheerful and self…confident as possible to avoid questions and keep from getting on my own nerves。
margot is very kind and would like me to confide in her； but i cant tell her everything。 she takes me too seriously； far too seriously； and spends a lot of time thinking about her loony sister； looking at me closely whenever i open my mouth and wondering； 〃is she acting； or does she really mean it？”
its because were always together。 i dont want the person i confide in to be around me all the time。 when will i untangle my jumbled thoughts？ when will i find inner peace again？
yours； anne
tuesday； march 14； 1944
dearest kitty；
it might be amusing for you （though not for me） to hear what were going to eat today。 the cleaning lady is working downstairs； so at the moment im seated at the van daans oilcloth…covered table with a handkerchief sprinkled with fragrant prewar perfume pressed to my nose and mouth。 you probably dont have the faintest idea what im talking about； so let me 〃begin at the begin… ning。〃 the people who supply us with food coupons have been arrested； so we have just our five black…market ra… …； tion books…no coupons； no fats and oils。 since miep and mr。 kleiman are sick again； bep cant manage the shop… ping。 the food is wretched； and so are we。 as of tomor… row； we wont have a scrap of fat； butter or margarine。 we cant eat fried potatoes for breakfast （which weve been doing to save on bread）； so were having hot cereal instead； and because mrs。 van d。 thinks were starving； we bought some half…and…half。 lunch today consists of mashed potatoes and pickled kale。 this explains the precautionary measure with the handkerchief。 you wouldnt believe how much kale can stink when its a few years old！ the kitchen smells like a mixture of spoiled plums； rotten eggs and brine。 ugh； just the thought of having to eat that muck makes me want to throw up！ besides that； our potatoes have contracted such strange diseases that one out of every two buckets of pommes de terre winds up in the garbage。 we entertain ourselves by trying to figure out which disease theyve got； and weve reached the conclusion that they suffer from cancer； smallpox and measles。
honestly； being in hiding during the fourth year of the war is no picnic。 if only the whole stinking mess were over！
to tell you the truth； the food wouldnt matter so much to me if life here were more pleasant in other ways。 but thats just it： this tedious existence is starting to make us all disagreeable。 here are the opinions of the five grown…ups on the present situation （children arent allowed to have opinions； and for once im sticking to the rules）：
mrs。 van daan： 〃id stopped wanting to be queen of the kitchen long ago。 but sitting around doing nothing was boring； so i went back to cooking。 still； i cant help plaining： its impossible to cook without oil； and all those disgusting smells make me sick to my stomach。 besides； what do i get in return for my efforts？ ingratitude and rude remarks。 im always the black sheep； i get blamed for everything。 whats more； its my opinion that the war is making very little progress。 the germans will win in the end。 im terrified that were going to starve； and when im in a bad mood； i snap at everyone who es near。”
mr。 van daan： 〃i just smoke and smoke and smoke。 then the food； the political
situation and kerlis moods dont seem so bad。 kerlis a sweetheart。 if i dont have anything to smoke； i get sick； then i need to eat meat； life bees unbearable； nothings good enough； and theres bound to be a flaming row。 my