wednesday evening, january 19, 1944

dearest kitty,

i (there i go again!) don't know what's happened, but since my dream i keep noticing how i've changed. by the way, i dreamed about peter again last night and once again i felt his eyes penetrate mine, but this dream was less vivid and not quite as beautiful as the last.

you know that i always used to be jealous of margot's relationship with father. there's not a trace of my jealousy left now; i still feel hurt when father's nerves cause him to be unreasonable toward me, but then i think, "i can't blame you for being the way you are. you talk so much about the minds of children and adolescents, but you don't know the first thing about them!" i long for more than father's affection, more than his hugs and kisses. isn't it awful of me to be so preoccupied with myself? shouldn't i, who want to be good and kind, forgive them first? i forgive mother too, but every time she makes a sarcastic remark or laughs at me, it's all i can do to control myself.

i know i'm far from being what i should; will i ever be?

anne frank

p.s. father asked if i told you about the cake. for mother's birthday, she received a real mocha cake, prewar quality, from the office. it was a really nice day! but at the moment there's no room in my head for things like that.