Margot is very kind and would like me to confide in her, but I can’t tell her everything.
She takes me too seriously, far too seriously, and spends a lot of time thinking about her loony sister,
looking at me closely whenever I open my mouth and wondering, ‘Is she acting, or does she really mean it?’
It’s because we’re always together. I don’t want the person I confide in to be around me all the time.
When will I untangle my jumbled thoughts? When will I find inner peace again? Yours, Anne
TUESDAY, MARCH 14, 1944
Dearest Kitty, It might be amusing for you (though not for me) to hear what we’re going to eat today.
The cleaning lady is working downstairs, so at the moment I’m seated at the van Daans’ oilcloth-covered table
with a handkerchief sprinkled with fragrant prewar perfume pressed to my nose and mouth.
You probably don’t have the faintest idea what I’m talking about, so let me “begin at the beginning.”
The people who supply us with food coupons have been arrested, so we have just our five black-market ration books -- no coupons, no fats and oils.
Since Miep and Mr. Kleiman are sick again, Bep can’t manage the shopping.
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