monday, february 14, 1944

dearest kitty,

a lot has changed for me since saturday. what's happened is this: i was longing for something (and still am), but. . . a small, a very small, part of the problem has been resolved.

on sunday morning i noticed, to my great joy (i'll be honest with you), that peter kept looking at me. not in the usual way. i don't know, i can't explain it, but i suddenly had the feeling he wasn't as in love with margot as i used to think. all day long i tried not to look at him too much, because whenever i did, i caught him looking at me and then -- well, it made me feel wonderful inside, and that's not a feeling i should have too often.

sunday evening everyone, except pim and me, was clustered around the radio, listening to the "immortal music of the german masters." dussel kept twisting and turning the knobs, which annoyed peter, and the others too. after restraining himself for half an hour, peter asked somewhat irritably if he would stop fiddling with the radio. dussel replied in his haughtiest tone, "ich mach' das schon!" [i'll decide that.] peter got angry and made an insolent remark. mr. van daan sided with him, and dussel had to back down. that was it.

the reason for the disagreement wasn't particularly interesting in and of itself, but peter has apparently taken the matter very much to heart, because this morning, when i was rummaging around in the crate of books in the attic, peter came up and began telling me what had happened. i didn't know anything about it, but peter soon realized he'd found an attentive listener and started warming up to his subject.

"well, it's like this," he said. "i don't usually talk much, since i know beforehand i'll just be tongue-tied. i start stuttering and blushing and i twist my words around so much i finally have to stop, because i can't find the right words. that's what happened yesterday. i meant to say something entirely different, but once i started, i got all mixed up. it's awful. i used to have a bad habit, and sometimes i wish i still did: whenever i was mad at someone, i'd beat them up instead of arguing with them. i know this method won't get me anywhere, and that's why i admire you. you're never at a loss for words: you say exactly what you want to say and aren't in the least bit shy."

"oh, you're wrong about that," i replied. "most of what i say comes out very differently from the way i'd planned. plus i talk too much and too long, and that's just as bad."

"maybe, but you have the advantage that no one can see you're embarrassed. you don't blush or go to pieces."

i couldn't help being secretly amused at his words. however, since i wanted him to go on talking quietly about himself, i hid my laughter, sat down on a cushion on the floor, wrapped my arms around my knees and gazed at him intently.

i'm glad there's someone else in this house who flies into the same rages as i do. peter seemed relieved that he could criticize dussel without being afraid i'd tell. as for me, i was pleased too, because i sensed a strong feeling of fellowship, which i only remember having had with my girlfriends.

yours, anne