Yesterday Mother and I had another run-in and she really kicked up a fuss.
She told Daddy all my sins and I started to cry, which made me cry too, and I already had such an awful headache.
I finally told Daddy that I love “him” more than I do Mother, to which he replied that it was just a passing phase, but I don't think so.
I simply can't stand Mother, and I have to force myself not to snap at her all the time,
and to stay calm, when I'd rather slap her across the face.
I don't know why I've taken such a terrible dislike to her.
Daddy says that if Mother isn't feeling well or has a headache, I should volunteer to help her,
but I'm not going to because I don't love her and don't enjoy doing it.
I can imagine Mother dying someday, but Daddy's death seems inconceivable.
It's very mean of me, but that's how I feel. I hope Mother will never read this or anything else I've written.
I've been allowed to read more grown-up books lately.
Eva's Youth by Nico van Suchtelen is currently keeping me busy.
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