Anne Frank

Hello, my name is Anne Frank; I was born in Frankfurt Germany June 12th 1929. My birth began at a time of desperation, sadness and sorrow, not the best time to introduce a new life to the world.

As a child I was relatively care free. I liked boys, I gossiped with my friends and enjoyed life like any other girl, oh how I didn’t realize what was about to become of me. On my thirteenth birthday I received a Diary as a present from my parents. I wrote about everything in my life as it gave me an opportunity to reflect on my deepest and innermost thoughts. As times grew more brutal, I develop crueller and more intense understandings of life, exposed to the harsh hatred towards the Jewish people and inevitably me. I seek refuge in this diary as it often helps me escape from reality, though at times it brings it even closer.

I hear my father wrenched in tears, reminiscing his once had fortune and wellbeing; sighs were a regular occurrence in my family. I love my dearest mother to pieces, even though it’s hard to. She showed very little in affection towards anyone, particularly myself. Difficult to live when the only woman you trust and love doesn’t express the feelings back. I tried to rationalize her lack of affection, blaming it on the tough times. Being told you are less than everyone else, that you are incompetent in society makes me bleed in rage, but what can I do, I’m just another Jewish girl fearing for her life.

Temptation to rebel haunted me every day, wanting to escape these dark quarters to a free world outside. The emotions at the annex were severely repressed as no one wants to burden others with their own problems. The residents developed misunderstandings of each other as a result of this. The deprivation of friendship led me to play with local stray cats. Once I saw a local boy named Peter playing with the cats as well. I had always perceived this boy as a lazy and obnoxious fellow, however seeing him just as isolated and lonesome softened my feelings towards him.

This Peter character seemed to be growing on me. We had found a common emotion which we can share; loneliness. Our friendship grew as we continued to speak with each other, making jokes about the residents that live in the annex and comforting each other at times of fear and depression. I began to have a certain romance for this boy. We cuddled and even kissed, oh how sweet his lips felt touching mine, caressing my hair slowly in the heat of the moment. Don’t get me wrong, our relationship and feelings towards each other were completely innocent, we were both upper class people with higher moral standards. I would do anything for him! Except that. He can touch my cheek, but nothing more. Of course the relationship between Peter and I did not go unnoticed. My sister Margot developed a jealousy for the relationship I had with Peter. My fulfillment and satisfaction of emotions angered her and threatened her own. My father later intervened into this mess and we all decided Peter and I would just remain friends as he disapproved of Peter.

As mentioned earlier, emotions at the annex were severely repressed. This of course applied to me as well. I felt as though there were two Anne’s. One that people knew as a lively, confident, and jovial Anne, and the “true” Anne I knew myself to be. This dichotomy of inward and outward personalities caused friction within my mind. This identity struggle seemed to be caused by the fact that I did not have a genuine person I could depend on and vent my deepest thoughts to. I felt oh so vulnerable to society, feeling frustrated because people judged based on my outward character, not knowing who I truly was inside. Even with Peter I felt as if he was not fully seeing through my shell of fake smiles to the isolated little girl within. This reflected most of the residents at the annex as they could not show their true identities as they would become victims of persecution.

What seemed to get me by through the tough times was the image of my grandmother. As I lacked affection from my mother and sister, I seek to the vision of my grandmother for it, as her unconditional love and support gave me hope for a brighter and prosperous future. Her image appeared to me in several dreams and made me regret how I lived my past life with such greed; she often put me in a state of nostalgia and remorse. She forced me to realize that I should’ve been appreciative of the life I had lived before being confined to the annex. I just wish my grandmother had known how much we all love her and how much I appreciate her for being there in my dreams at times of insecurity and fear.

Now here as I lay sick, I finish possibly my last journal entry, the reflection of my life. I do not know how much longer I have to live, but to my understanding, I do not have much longer as I see many dead souls around me that had the same illness. So I end this entry on a positive note, pray that I will live to see the birds of tomorrow and find love within.

Until next time god willing,

Anne Frank.