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shes registered under beps name。 the teachers very nice； and witty too。 i bet hes glad to have such a smart student。
dussel is in a turmoil and we dont know why。 it all began with dussels saying nothing when he was upstairs； he didnt exchange so much as a word with either mr。
or mrs。 van daan。 we all noticed it。 this went on for a few days； and then mother took the opportunity to warn him about mrs。 van d。； who could make life miserable for him。 dussel said mr。 van daan had started the silent treatment and he had no intention of breaking it。 i should explain that yesterday was november 16； the first anniversary of his living in the annex。 mother received a plant in honor of the occasion； but mrs。 van daan； who had alluded to the date for weeks and made no
bones about the fact that she thought dussel should treat us to dinner； received nothing。 instead of making use of the opportunity to thank us for the first time for unselfishly taking him in； he didnt utter a word。 and on the morning of the sixteenth； when i asked him whether i should offer him my congratulations or my condolences； he replied that either one would do。 mother； having cast herself in the role of peacemaker； made no headway whatsoever； and the situation finally ended in a draw。
i can say without exaggeration that dussel has definitely got a screw loose。 we often laugh to ourselves because he has no memory； no fixed opinions and no mon sense。 hes amused us more than once by trying to pass on the news hes just heard； since the message invariably gets garbled in transmission。 furthermore； he answers every reproach or accusation with a load of fine 1 promises； which he never manages to keep。
〃der mann hat einen grossen geist una ist so klein van taten！〃* ＇*a well…known expression：
〃the spirit of the man is great； how puny are his deeds。鈥�
yours； anne
saturday； november 27； 1943
dearest kitty；
last night； just as i was falling asleep； hanneli suddenly appeared before me。
i saw her there； dressed in rags； her face thin and worn。 she looked at me with such sadness and reproach in her enormous eyes that i could read the message in them：
〃oh； anne； why have you deserted me？ help me； help me； rescue me from this hell！鈥�
and i cant help her。 i can only stand by and watch while other people suffer and die。
all i can do is pray to god to bring her back to us。 i saw hanneli； and no one else； and i understood why。 i misjudged her； wasnt mature enough to understand how difficult it was for her。 she was devoted to her girlfriend； and it must have seemed as though i were trying to take her away。 the poor thing； she must have felt awful！ i know； because i recognize the feeling in myself！ i had an occasional flash of understanding； but then got selfishly wrapped up again in my own problems and pleasures。
it was mean of me to treat her that way； and now she was looking at me； oh so helplessly； with her pale face and beseeching eyes。 if only i could help her！ dear god； i have everything i could wish for； while fate has her in its deadly clutches。 she was as devout as i am； maybe even more so； and she too wanted to do what was right。
but then why have i been chosen to live； while shes probably going to die？ whats the difference between us？ why are we now so far apart？
to be honest； i hadnt thought of her for months no； for at least a year。 i hadnt forgotten her entirely； and yet it wasnt until i saw her before me that i thought of all her suffering。
oh； hanneli； i hope that if you live to the end of the war and return to us； ill be able to take you in and make up for the wrong ive done you。
but even if i were ever in a position to help； she wouldnt need it more than she does now。 i wonder if she ever thinks of me； and what shes feeling？
merciful god； fort her； so that at least she wont be alone。 oh； if only you could tell her im thinking of her with passion and love； it might help her go on。
ive got to stop dwelling on this。 it wont get me anywhere。 i keep seeing her enormous eyes； and they haunt me。 does hanneli really and truly believe in god； or has religion merely been foisted upon her？ i dont even know that。 i never took the trouble to ask。
hanneli； hanneli； if only i could take you away； if only i could share everything i have with you。 its too late。 i cant help； or undo the wrong ive done。 but ill never forget her again and ill always pray for her！
yours； anne
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DECEMBER； 1943
锛屽皬璇达伎t锛縳t澶╁爞
monday； december 6； 1943
dearest kitty；
the closer it got to st。 nicholas day； the more we all thought back to last years festively decorated basket。
more than anyone； i thought it would be terrible to skip a celebration this year。 after long deliberation； i finally came up with an idea； something funny。 i consulted rim； and
a week ago we set to work writing a verse for each person。
sunday evening at a quarter to eight we trooped upstairs carrying the big laundry basket； which had been decorated with cutouts and bows made of pink and blue carbon paper。 on top was a large piece of brown wrapping paper with a note attached。
everyone was rather amazed at the sheer size of the gift。 i removed the note and read it aloud：
〃once again st。 nicholas day has even e to our hideaway；
it wont be quite as jun； i fear； as the happy day we had last year。
then we were hopeful； no reason to doubt that optimism would win the bout； and by the time this year came round； wed all be free； and s* and sound。
still； lets not jorget its st。 nicholas day； though weve nothing left to give away。
well have to find something else to do：
so everyone please look in their shoe！鈥�
as each person took their own shoe out of the basket； there was a roar of laughter。
inside each shoe was a little wrapped package addressed to its owner。
yours； anne
dearest kitty；
a bad case of flu has prevented me from writing to you until today。 being sick here is dreadful。 with every cough； i had to duck under the blanket once； twice； three times and try to keep from coughing anymore。
most of the time the tickle refused to go away； so i had to drink milk with honey； sugar or cough drops。 i get dizzy just thinking about all the cures ive been subjected to： sweating out the fever； steam treatment； wet presses； dry presses； hot drinks； swabbing my throat； lying still； heating pad； hot…water bottles； lemonade and； every two hours； the thermometer。 will these remedies really make you better？ the worst part was when mr。 dussel decided to play doctor and lay his pomaded head on my bare chest to listen to the sounds。 not only did his hair tickle； but i was embarrassed； even though he went to school thirty years ago and does have some kind of medical degree。 why should he lay his head on my heart？ after all； hes not my
boyfriend！ for that matter； he wouldnt be able to tell a healthy sound from an unhealthy one。
hed have to have his ears cleaned first； since hes being alarmingly hard of hearing。 but enough about my illness。 im fit as a fiddle again。 ive grown almost half an inch and gained two pounds。 im pale； but itching to get back to my books。
ausnahmsweise* （the only word that will do here ＇* by way of exception＇）； were all getting on well together。 no squabbles； though that probably wont last long。 there hasnt been such peace and quiet in this house for at least six months。
bep is still in isolation； but any day now her sister will no longer be contagious。
for christmas； were getting extra cooking oil； candy and molasses。 for hanukkah； mr。
dussel gave mrs。 van daan and mother a beautiful cake； which hed asked miep to bake。 on top of all the work she has to do！ margot and i received a brooch made out of a penny； all bright and shiny。 i cant really describe it； but its lovely。
i also have a christmas present for miep and bep。 for a whole month ive saved up the sugar i put on my hot cereal； and mr。 kleiman has used it to have fondant made。
the weather is drizzly and overcast； the stove stinks； and the food lies heavily on our stomachs； producing a variety of rumbles。
the war is at an impasse； spirits are low。
yours； anne
friday； december 24； 1943
dear kitty；
as ive written you many times before； moods have a tendency to affect us quite a bit here； and in my case its been getting worse lately。 〃himmelhoch jauchzend； zu tode betrubt〃* ＇* a famous line from goethe： 〃on top of the world； or in the depths of despair。〃＇ certainly applies to me。 im 〃on top of the world〃 when i think of how fortunate we are and pare myself to other jewish children； and 〃in the depths of despair〃 when； for example； mrs。 kleiman es by and talks about jopies hockey club； canoe trips； school plays and afternoon teas with friends。
i dont think im jealous of jopie； but i long to have a really good time for once and
to laugh so hard it hurts。
were stuck in this house like lepers； especially during winter and the christmas and new years holidays。 actually； i shouldnt even be writing this； since it makes me seem so ungrateful； but i cant keep everything to myself； so ill repeat what i said at the beginning： 〃paper is more patient than people。鈥�
whenever someone es in from outside； with the wind in their clothes and the cold on their cheeks； i feel like burying my head under the blankets to keep from thinking； 〃when will we be allowed to breathe fresh air again？〃 i cant do that on the contrary； i have to hold my head up high and put a bold face on things； but the thoughts keep ing anyway。 not just once； but over and over。
believe me； if youve been shut up for a year and a half； it can get to be too much for you sometimes。 but feelings cant be ignored； no matter how unjust or ungrateful they seem。 i long to ride a bike； dance； whistle； look at the world； feel young and know that im free； and yet i cant let it show。 just imagine what would happen if all eight of us were to feel sorry for ourselves or walk around with the discontent clearly visible on our faces。 where would that get us？ i sometimes wonder if anyone will ever understand what i mean； if anyone will ever overlook my ingratitude and not worry about whether or not im jewish and merely see me as a teenager badly in need of some good plain fun。 i dont know； and i wouldnt be able to talk about it with anyone； since im sure id start to cry。 crying can bring relief； as long as you dont cry alone。 despite all my theories and efforts； i miss every day and every hour of the day having a mother who understands me。 thats why with everything i do and write； i imagine the kind of mom id like to be to my children later on。 the kind of mom who doesnt take everything people say too seriously； but who does take me seriously。 i find it difficult to describe what i mean； but the word mom〃 says it all。
do you know what ive e up with？ in order to give me the feeling of calling my mother something that sounds like 〃mom；〃 i often call her〃 momsy。〃 sometimes i shorten it to 〃moms〃； an imperfect 〃mom。〃 i wish i could honor her by removing the 〃s。〃 its a good thing she doesnt realize this； since it would only make her unhappy。
well； thats enough of that。 my writing has raised me somewhat from 〃the depths of despair。鈥�
yours； anne
its the day after christmas； and i cant help thinking about pim and the story he told me this time last year。 i didnt understand the meaning of his words then as well as i do now。 if only hed bring it up again； i might be able to show him i understood what
he meant！
i think pim told me because he； who knows the 〃intimate secrets〃 of so many others； needed to express his own feelings for once； pim never talks about himself； and i dont think margot has any inkling of what hes been through。 poor pim； he cant fool me into thinking hes forgotten that girl。 he never will。 its made him very acmodating； since hes not blind to mothers faults。 i hope im going to be a little like him； without having to go through what he has！
anne monday； december 27； 1943
friday evening； for the first time in my life； i received a christmas present。 mr。
kleiman； mr。 kugler and the girls had prepared a wonderful surprise for us。 miep made a delicious christmas cake with 〃peace 1944〃 written on top； and bep pro