monday, november 2, 1942

dear kitty,

bep stayed with us friday evening. it was fun, but she didn't sleep very well because she'd drunk some wine. for the rest, there's nothing special to report. i had an awful headache yesterday and went to bed early. margot's being exasperating again.

this morning i began sorting out an index card file from the office, because it'd fallen over and gotten all mixed up. before long i was going nuts. i asked margot and peter to help, but they were too lazy, so i put it away.

i'm not crazy enough to do it all by myself!

anne frank

ps. i forgot to mention the important news that i'm probably going to get my period soon. i can tell because i keep finding a whitish smear in my panties, and mother predicted it would start soon. i can hardly wait. it's such a momentous event. too bad i can't use sanitary napkins, but you can't get them anymore, and mama's tampons can be used only by women who've had a baby.

comment added by anne on january 22, 1944: i wouldn't be able to write that kind of thing anymore.

now that i'm rereading my diary after a year and a half, i'm surprised at my childish innocence. deep down i know i could never be that innocent again, however much i'd like to be. i can understand the mood chanaes and the comments about margot, mother and father as if i'd written them only yesterday, but i can't imagine writina so openly about other matters. it embarrasses me areatly to read the panes dealina with subjects that i remembered as beina nicer than they actually were. my descriptions are so indelicate. but enouah of that.

i can also understand my homesickness and yearning for moortje. the whole time i've been here i've longed unconsciously and at times consciously for trust, love and physical affection. this longing may change in intensity, but it's always there.