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

with green peas, yesterday he had the leftovers, today she's cooking marrowfat
peas, and tomorrow she's plan- ning to mash the remaining carrots with potatoes.
We asked about Miep's doctor.
"Doctor?" said Jan. "What doctor? I called him this morning and got his secretary
on the line. I asked for a flu prescription and was told I could come pick it up
tomor- row morning between eight and nine. If you've got a particularly bad case
of flu, the doctor himself comes to the phone and says, 'Stick out your tongue and
say "Aah." Oh, I can hear it, your throat's infected. I'll write out a
prescription and you can bring it to the phar- macy. Good day.' And that's that.
Easy job he's got, diagnosis by phone. But I shouldn't blame the doctors." After
all, a person has only two hands, and these days there're too many patients and
too few doctors."
Still, we all had a good laugh at Jan's phone call. I can just imagine what a
doctor's waiting room looks like these days. Doctors no longer turn up their noses
at the poorer patients, but at those with minor illnesses. "Hey, what are you
doing here?" they think. "Go to the end of the line; real patients have priority!"
Yours, Anne
THURSDAY, MARCH 16, 1944
Dearest Kitty,
The weather is gorgeous, indescribably beautiful; I'll be going up to the attic in
a moment.
I now know why I'm so much more restless than Peter. He has his own room, where he
can work, dream, think and sleep. I'm constantly being chased from one corner to
another. I'm never alone in the room I share with Dussel, though I long to be so
much. That's another reason I take refuge in the attic. When I'm there, or with
you, I can be myself, at least for a little while. Still, I don't want to moan and
groan. On the contrary, I want to be brave!
Thank goodness the others notice nothing of my innermost feelings, except that
every day I'm growing cooler and more contemptuous of Mother, less affection- ate
to Father and less willing to share a single thought with Margot; I'm closed up
tighter than a drum. Above all, I have to maintain my air of confidence. No one
must know that my heart and mind are constantly at war with each other. Up to now
reason has always won the battle, but will my emotions get the upper hand?
Sometimes I fear they will, but more often I actually hope they do!
Oh, it's so terribly hard not to talk to Peter about these things, but I know I
have to let him begin; it's so hard to act during the daytime as if everything
I've said and done in my dreams had never taken place! Kitty, Anne is crazy, but
then these are crazy times and even crazier circumstances.
The nicest part is being able to write down all my thoughts and feelings;
otherwise, I'd absolutely suffocate. I wonder what Peter thinks about all these
things? I keep thinking I'll be able to talk to him about them one day. He must
have guessed something about the inner me, since he couldn't possibly love the
outer Anne he's known so far! How could someone like Peter, who loves peace and
quiet, possibly stand my bustle and noise? Will he be the first and only person to
see what's beneath my granite mask? Will it take him long? Isn't there some old
saying about love being akin to pity? Isn't that what's happening here as well?
Because I often pity him as much as I do myself!