THE DIARY OF A YOUNG GIRL : THE DEFINITIVE EDITION ... - Fidele

Lately I haven't been at all in the mood to write down what's been going on here.
I've been more wrapped up in myself. Don't get me wrong, I'm terribly upset about
what's happened to poor, good-hearted Mr. M., but there's not much room for him in
my diary.
Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday I was in Peter's room from four-thirty to fivefifteen.
We worked on our French and chatted about one thing and another. I really
look forward to that hour or so in the afternoon, but best of all is that I think
Peter's just as pleased to see me.
Yours, Anne M. Frank
THE DIARY OF A YOUNG GIRL 213
SATURDAY, MARCH 11, 1944
Dearest Kitty,
I haven't been able to sit still lately. I wander up- stairs and down and then
back again. I like talking to Peter, but I'm always afraid of being a nuisance.
He's told me a bit about the past, about his parents and about himself, but it's
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. I've
changed my mind, but how do I know he's changed his? I think he has, but that
doesn't necessarily mean we have to become the best of friends, although as far as
I'm concerned, it would make our time here more bearable. But I won't let this
drive me crazy. I spend enough time thinking about him and don't have to get you
all worked up as well, simply because I'm so miserable!
SUNDAY, MARCH 12, 1944
Dearest Kitty,
Things are getting crazier here as the days go by.
Peter hasn't looked at me since yesterday. He's been acting as if he's mad at me.
I'm doing my best not to chase after him and to talk to him as little as possible,
but it's not easy! What's going on, what makes him keep me at arm's length one
minute and rush back to my side the next? Perhaps I'm imagining that it's worse
than it really is. Perhaps he's just moody like me, and tomorrow everything will
be all right again!
I have the hardest time trying to maintain a normal facade when I'm 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 I'm getting everything all mixed up,
Kitty, but then, I'm in a state of utter confusion: on the one hand, I'm 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 can't
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 he's not yet ready to talk
about? Maybe he doesn't 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.