Nowadays, Anne is basically the only support for me. Never having any true friends in my life, I hadn’t experienced such a sense before. It feels so good to know that you’re not alone and to have someone you can share your thoughts with keeps in your mind that you always have a maintainer. Anne being around, our dates and chats in my room about the old times and her dreams are what makes me still have some faith for the future and for our lives. Being only fourteen, she is intellectually very mature and already knows what she wants to become when she grows up. In the future, when she becomes a famous journalist, when her pictures will be hung up on my children’s walls, I will be continuing my life as a stupid, useless farmer.
She is a very good writer, which I can see from her diary entries. I thought that maybe it is her diaries what keeps her so faithful, so I also decided to give it a try. At least I’ll have a memory of these days…
Our so called lives in this old, tired house with walls covered with cracks, wipes away my joy for life. Every time I here the wind whistling through those cracks, I run to feel it on my face and wish the longing for the outer world ends sooner.
Even though we haven’t been taken yet, I feel as if we are in a concentration camp already. We can’t go to the toilet during the day, nor can we wear our shoes to stay quiet. If the workers in the office hear us, all of us will get caught and will suffer mercilessly, as the other thousands of people do. Peeking out of the window, all we see is Nazis patrolling the streets and tearing apart tens of innocent children from their mothers to load them on the gray and green army trucks. Witnessing all of these, and living in a secret annex with six other people, which is the size of a matchbox, I don’t care about surviving anymore...
Yours,
Peter
June 1944
Dear Diary,
It has been six months from the day I first wrote to you, but I can’t say that there has been much change in our lives, apart from witnessing more and more people being tormented, captured and killed. The same events are repeated each day and seem like they will never end. For two years, we have been “living” here, in a crumbling warehouse attic, two families mingled together. I haven’t got any hope or faith anymore and I have stopped believeing in God long ago. If He was actually there, why would he let thousands of people suffer horribly anyway?
Miep is our second most reliable source of information, after the radio. Every time she comes from outside, we expect, actually hope to hear good news, but all we hear about are the ruthless, rabid Nazis killing hundreds. Sometimes I want to cry “ENOUGH!!” and leave this house to face what is waiting for us outside...I know it’s going to come, and we’ll be taken sooner or later, but we can’t do anything! We can’t cry for help, nor can we help others. Everyday I feel more desperate and feel more need for freedom.
As each day passes, I think more and more about us being imprisoned in an annex and think about how long it has been. I count the days past, and it seems more infinite and limitless to me. I hate to feel being crushed beneath this stress of treachery and despair even more. I don’t know how much more I can live with this... I’m really entranced by Anne’s never lost faith and patience, but I can never be like her... All I want is this to end... I don’t care how, but I want it to end as soon as possible...
Yours,
Peter