SUNDAY MORNING, MAY 7, 1944
Dearest Kitty, Father and I had a long talk yesterday afternoon.
I cried my eyes out, and he cried too. Do you know what he said to me, Kitty?
I’ve received many letters in my lifetime, but none as hurtful as this.
You, who have had so much love from your parents. You, whose parents have always been ready to help you,
who have always defended you, no matter what. You talk of not having to account to us for your actions!
You feel you’ve been wronged and left to your own devices. No, Anne, you’ve done us a great injustice!
Perhaps you didn’t mean it that way, but that’s what you wrote. No, Anne, we have done nothing to deserve such a reproach!
Oh, I've failed miserably. This is the worst thing I've ever done in my entire life.
I used my tears to show off, to make myself seem important so he'd respect me.
I've certainly had my share of unhappiness, and everything I said about Mother is true.
But to accuse Pim, who's so good and who's done everything for me-no, that was too cruel for words.
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