“I think it's so awful that you've become the odd one out,” I added. “I'm used to that,” she replied, somewhat bitterly.
I don't dare tell Peter. Maybe later on, but he and I need to discuss so many other things first.
Mother slapped me last night, which I deserved. I mustn't carry my indifference and contempt for her too far.
In spite of everything, I should try once again to be friendly and keep my remarks to myself!
Even Pim isn't as nice as he used to be. He's been trying not to treat me like a child, but now he's much too cold.
We'll just have to see what comes of it! He's warned me that if I don't do my algebra, I won't get any tutoring after the war.
I could simply wait and see what happens, but I'd like to start again, provided I get a new book.
That's enough for now. I do nothing but gaze at Peter, and I'm filled to overflowing! Yours, Anne M. Frank
Evidence of Margot's goodness. I received this today, March 20, 1944:
Anne, yesterday when I said I wasn't jealous of you, I wasn't being entirely honest.
The situation is this: I'm not jealous of either you or Peter.
I'm just sorry I haven't found anyone with whom to share my thoughts and feelings, and I'm not likely to in the near future.
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