I'm frequently in need of consolation, I often feel weak, and more often than not, I fail to meet expectations.
I know this, and every day I resolve to do better.
They aren't consistent in their treatment of me. One day they say that Anne's a sensible girl and entitled to know everything,
and the next that Anne's a silly goose who doesn't know a thing and yet imagines she's learned all she needs to know from books!
I'm no longer the baby and spoiled little darling whose every deed can be laughed at.
I have my own ideas, plans and ideals, but am unable to articulate them yet. Oh well.
So much comes into my head at night when I'm alone,
or during the day when I'm obliged to put up with people I can't abide or who invariably misinterpret my intentions.
That's why I always wind up coming back to my diary -- I start there and end there because Kitty's always patient.
I promise her that, despite everything, I'll keep going, that I'll find my own way and choke back my tears.
I only wish I could see some results or, just once, receive encouragement from someone who loves me.
Don't condemn me, but think of me as a person who sometimes reaches the bursting point! Yours, Anne
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