SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 7, 1942Dearest Kitty,Mother’s nerves are very much on edge, and that doesn’t bode well for me. Isit just a coincidence that Father and Mother never scold Margot and alwaysblame me for everything?Last night, for example, Margot was reading a book with beautifulillustrations; she got up and put the book aside for later. I wasn’t doinganything, so I picked it up and began looking at the pictures. Margot carneback, saw’ “her”book in my hands, knitted her brow and angrily demanded the book back. Iwanted to look through it some more. Margot got madder by the minute, andMother butted in: “Margot was reading that book; give it back to her.”Father came in, and without even knowing what was going on, saw thatMargot was being wronged and lashed out at me:”I’d like to see what you’d do if Margot was looking at one of your books!”I promptly gave in, put the book down and, according to them, left the room”in a huff.” I was neither huffy nor cross, but merely sad.It wasn’t right of Father to pass judgment without knowing what the issuewas. I would have given the book to Margot myself, and a lot sooner, ifFather and Mother hadn’t intervened and rushed to take Margot’s part, as ifshe were suffering some great injustice.Of course, Mother took Margot’s side; they always take each other’s sides. I’mso used to it that I’ve become completely indifferent to Mother’s rebukes andMargot’s moodiness. I love them, but only because they’re Mother andMargot. I don’t give a darn about them as people. As far as I’m concerned,they can go jump in a lake. It’s different with Father. When I see him beingpartial to Margot, approving Margot’s every action, praising her, hugging her,I feel a gnawing ache inside, because I’m crazy about him. I model myselfafter Father, and there’s no one in the world I love more. He doesn’t realizethat he treats Margot differently than he does me: Margot just happens to bethe smartest, the kindest, the prettiest and the best. But I have a right to betaken seriously too. I’ve always been the clown and mischief maker of thefamily; I’ve always had to pay double for my sins: once with scoldings andthen again with my own sense of despair. I’m no longer satisfied with themeaningless affection or the supposedly serious talks. I long for somethingfrom Father that he’s incapable of giving. I’m not jealous of Margot; I neverhave been. I’m not envious of her brains or her beauty. It’s just that I’d like tofeel that Father really loves me, not because I’m his child, but because I’mme, Anne.I cling to Father because my contempt of Mother is growing daily and it’sonly through him that I’m able to retain the last ounce of family feeling I haveleft. He doesn’t understand that I sometimes need to vent my feelings forMother. He doesn’t want to talk about it, and he avoids any discussioninvolving Mother’s failings. And yet Mother, with all her shortcomings, istougher for me to deal with. I don’t know how I should act. I can’t very wellconfront her with her carelessness, her sarcasm and her hard-heartedness, yetI can’t continue to take the blame for everything.I’m the opposite of Mother, so of course we clash. I don’t mean to judge her; Idon’t have that right. I’m simply looking at her as a mother. She’s not amother to me — I have to mother myself. I’ve cut myself adrift from them. I’mcharting my own course, and we’ll see where it leads me. I have no choice,because I can picture what a mother and a wife should be and can’t seem tofind anything of the sort in the woman I’m supposed to call “Mother.”I tell myself time and again to overlook Mother’s bad example. I only want tosee her good points, and to look inside myself for what’s lacking in her. But itdoesn’t work, and the worst part is that Father and Mother don’t realize theirown inadequacies and how much I blame them for letting me down. Arethere any parents who can make their children completely happy?Sometimes I think God is trying to test me, both now and in the future. I’llhave to become a good person on my own, without anyone to serve as amodel or advise me, but it’ll make me stronger in the end.Who else but me is ever going to read these letters? Who else but me can Iturn to for comfort? I’m frequently in need of consolation, I often feel weak,and more often than not, I fail to meet expectations. I know this, and everyday I resolve to do better.They aren’t consistent in their treatment of me. One day they say that Anne’sa sensible girl and entitled to know everything, and the next that Anne’s asilly goose who doesn’t know a thing and yet imagines she’s learned all sheneeds to know from books! I’m no longer the baby and spoiled little darlingwhose every deed can be laughed at. I have my own ideas, plans and ideals,but am unable to articulate them yet.Oh well. So much comes into my head at night when I’m alone, or during theday when I’m obliged to put up with people I can’t abide or who invariablymisinterpret my intentions. That’s why I always wind up coming back to mydiary — I start there and end there because Kitty’s always patient. I promiseher that, despite everything, I’ll keep going, that I’ll find my own way andchoke back my tears. I only wish I could see some results or, just once,receive encouragement from someone who loves me.Don’t condemn me, but think of me as a person who sometimes reaches thebursting point!Yours, AnneMONDAY, NOVEMBER 9,1942Dearest Kitty,Yesterday was Peter’s birthday, his sixteenth. I was upstairs by eight, andPeter and I looked at his presents. He received a game of Monopoly, a razorand a cigarette lighter.Not that he smokes so much, not at all; it just looks so distinguished.The biggest surprise came from Mr. van Daan, who reported at one that theEnglish had landed in Tunis, Algiers, Casablanca and Oran.”This is the beginning of the end,” everyone was saying, but Churchill, theBritish Prime Minister, who must have heard the same thing being repeatedin England, declared,”This is not the end. It is not even the beginning of the end. But it is, perhaps,the end of the beginning.” Do you see the difference? However, there’s reasonfor optimism.Stalingrad, the Russian city that has been under attack for three months, stillhasn’t fallen intoGerman hands.In the true spirit of the Annex, I should talk to you about food. (I shouldexplain that they’re real gluttons up on the top floor.)Bread is delivered daily by a very nice baker, a friend of Mr. Kleiman’s. Ofcourse, we don’t have as much as we did at home, but it’s enough. We alsopurchase ration books on the black market. The price keeps going up; it’salready risen from 27 to 33 guilders. And that for mere sheets of printedpaper!To provide ourselves with a source of nutrition that will keep, aside from thehundred cans of food we’ve stored here, we bought three hundred pounds ofbeans. Not just for us, but for the office staff as well. We’d hung the sacks ofbeans on hooks in the hallway, just inside our secret entrance, but a fewseams split under the weight. So we decided to move them to the attic, andPeter was entrusted with the heavy lifting.He managed to get five of the six sacks upstairs intact and was busy with thelast one when the sack broke and a flood, or rather a hailstorm, of brownbeans went flying through the air and down the stairs. Since there were aboutfifty pounds of beans in that sack, it made enough noise to raise the dead.Downstairs they were sure the house was falling down around their heads.Peter was stunned, but then burst into peals of laughter when he saw mestanding at the bottom of the stairs, like an island in a sea of brown, withwaves of beans lapping at my ankles. We promptly began picking them up,but beans are so small and slippery that they roll into every conceivablecorner and hole. Now each time we go upstairs, we bend over and huntaround so we can present Mrs.van Daan with a handful of beans.I almost forgot to mention that Father has recovered from his illness.Yours, AnneP.S. The radio has just announced that Algiers has fallen.Morocco, Casablanca and Oran have been in English hands for several days.We’re now waiting for Tunis.TUESDAY, NOVEMBER 10, 1942Dearest Kitty,Great news! We’re planning to take an eighth person into hiding with us!Yes, really. We always thought there was enough room and food for onemore person, but we were afraid of placing an even greater burden on Mr.Kugler and Mr. Kleiman. But since reports of the dreadful things being doneto the Jews are getting worse by the day, Father decided to sound out thesetwo gentlemen, and they thought it was an excellent plan.”It’s just as dangerous, whether there are seven or eight,”they noted rightly. Once this was settled, we sat down and mentally wentthrough our circle of acquaintances, trying to come up with a single personwho would blend in well with our extended family. This wasn’t difficult.After Father had rejected all the van Daan relatives, we chose a dentist namedAlfred Dussel. He lives with a charming Christian lady who’s quite a bityounger than he is. They’re probably not married, but that’s beside the point.He’s known to be quiet and refined, and he seemed, from our superficialacquaintance with him, to be nice. Miep knows him as well, so she’ll be ableto make the necessary arrangements. If he comes, Mr.Dussel will have to sleep in my room instead of Margot, who will have tomake do with the folding bed.* *After Dussel arrived, Margot slept in herparents’ bedroom. We’ll ask him to bring along something to fill cavitieswith.Yours, AnneTHURSDAY, NOVEMBER 12, 1942Dearest Kitty,Miep came to tell us that she’d been to see Dr. Dussel. He asked her themoment she entered the room if she knew of a hiding place and wasenormously pleased when Miep said she had something in mind. She added”that he’d need to go into hiding as soon as possible, preferably Saturday, buthe thought this was highly improbable, since he wanted to bring his recordsup to date, settle his accounts and attend to a couple of patients. Miep relayedthe message to us this morning. We didn’t think it was wise to wait so long.All these preparations require explanations to various people who we feelought to be kept in the dark. Miep went to ask if Dr.Dussel couldn’t manage to come on Saturday after all, but he said no, andnow he’s scheduled to arrive on Monday.I think it’s odd that he doesn’t jump at our proposal. If they pick him up on thestreet, it won’t help either his records or his patients, so why the delay? If youask me, it’s stupid of Father to humor him.Otherwise, no news.Yours, AnneTUESDAY, NOVEMBER 17, 1942Dearest Kitty!Mr. Dussel has arrived. Everything went smoothly. Miep told him to be at acertain place in front of the post office at 11 A.M., when a man would meethim, and he was at the appointed place at the appointed time. Mr. Kleimanwent up to him, announced that the man he was expecting to meet was unableto come and asked him to drop by the office to see Miep. Mr. Kleiman took astreetcar back to the office while Mr. Dussel followed on foot.It was eleven-twenty when Mr. Dussel tapped on the office door. Miep askedhim to remove his coat, so the yellow star couldn’t be seen, and brought himto the private office, where Mr. Kleiman kept him occupied until the cleaninglady had gone. On the pretext that the private office was needed forsomething else, Miep took Mr. Dussel upstairs, opened the bookcase andstepped inside, while Mr. Dussellooked on in amazement.In the meantime, the seven of us had seated ourselves around the dining tableto await the latest addition to our family with coffee and cognac. Miep firstled him into the Frank family’s room. He immediately recognized ourfurniture, but had no idea we were upstairs, just above his head. When Mieptold him, he was so astonished he nearly fainted. Thank goodness she didn’tleave him in suspense any longer, but brought him upstairs. Mr. Dussel sankinto a chair and stared at us in dumbstruck silence, as though he thought hecould read the truth on our faces. Then he stuttered, “Aber . . .but are you nicht in Belgium? The officer, the auto, they were not coming?Your escape was not working?”We explained the whole thing to him, about how we’d deliberately spread therumor of the officer and the car to throw the Germans and anyone else whomight come looking for us off the track. Mr. Dussel was speechless in theface of such ingenuity, and could do nothing but gaze around in surprise as heexplored the rest of our lovely and ultrapractical Annex. We all had lunchtogether. Then he took a short nap, joined us for tea, put away the fewbelongings Miep had been able to bring here in advance and began to feelmuch more at home. Especially when we handed him the followingtypewritten rules and regulations for the Secret Annex (a van Daanproduction):PROSPECTUS AND GUIDE TO THE SECRET ANNEXA Unique Facility for the TemporaryAccommodation of Jews and OtherDispossessed PersonsOpen all year round: Located in beautiful, quiet, wooded surroundings in theheart of Amsterdam. No private residences in the vicinity. Can be reached bystreetcar 13 or 17 and also by car and bicycle. For those to whom suchtransportation has been forbidden by the German authorities, it can also bereached on foot. Furnished and unfurnished rooms and apartments areavailable at all times, with or without meals.Price: Free.Diet: Low-fat.Runnina water in the bathroom (sorry, no bath) and on various inside andoutside walls. Cozy wood stoves for heating.Ample storage space for a variety of goods. Two large, modern safes.Private radio with a direct line to London, New York, Tel Aviv and manyother stations. Available to all residents after 6 P.M. No listening to forbiddenbroadcasts, with certain exceptions, i.e., German stations may only be tunedin to listen to classical music. It is absolutely forbidden to listen to Germannews bulletins (regardless of where they are transmitted from) and to passthem on to others.Rest hours: From 10 P.M. to 7:30 A.M.; 10:15 A.M. on Sundays. Owing tocircumstances, residents are required to observe rest hours during the daytimewhen instructed to do so by the Management. To ensure the safety of all, resthours must be strictly observed!!!Free-time activities: None allowed outside the house until further notice.Use of language: It is necessary to speak softly at all times. Only thelanguage of civilized people may be spoken, thus no German.Reading and relaxation: No German books may be read, except for theclassics and works of a scholarly nature.Other books are optional.