WEDNESDAY, JANUARY 13, 1943
Dearest Kitty,
This m I was stantly interrupted, and as a result I havent been able to finish a sihing Ive begun.
We have a new pastime, namely, filling packages with pravy. 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 b 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 knapsad a little cash with them, and eveheyre 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. Womeurn from shopping to find their houses sealed, their famthes gohe Christians in Holland are also living in fear because their sons are beio 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 Afrio one keep out of the flict, the entire world is at war, and even though the Allies are doier, 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 moo 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 .
The children in this neighborhood run around in thin shirts and wooden shoes. They have no coats, no caps, no stogs and no oo 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 ireets 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 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 t show it. Id like to scream, stamp my foot, give Mood shaking, cry and I dont know what else because of the nasty words,
mog looks and accusations that she hurls at me day after day, pierg 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 t do that. I t let them see my doubts, or the wounds theyve inflicted on me. I couldheir sympathy or their good-humored derision. It would only make me want to scream even more.
Everyohinks Im showing off when I talk, ridicu lous when Im silent, i when I answer, ing when I have a good idea, lazy when Im tired, selfish whe oe more than I should, stupid, cowardly, calculatic., etc. All day long I hear nothing but what an exasperating child I am, and although I laug