less. I will tell you how we shall do that; its certainly not going to make things any pleasanter. Mummy says we shall cut out breakfast altogether, have porridge and bread for lunch, fried potatoes for supper and, possibly once or twice per week, vegetables or lettuce, nothing more. We’re going to be hungry, but anything is better than being discovered.
Yours, Anne
Friday, 26 May, 1944
Dear Kitty, At last, at last I can sit quietly at my table in front of a crack of window and write you everything.
I feel so miserable, I haven’t felt like this for months; even after the burglary I didn’t feel so utterly broken. On the one hand, the vegetable man, the Jewish question (which is being discussed minutely over the whole house), the invasion delay, the bad food, the strain, the miserable atmosphere, my disappointment in Peter, and on the other hand, Elli’s engagement, the Whitsun reception, flowers, Kugler’s birthday, fancy cakes, and stories about cabarets, films, and concerts. That difference, that huge difference, it’s always there; one day we laugh and see the funny side of the situation, but the next we are afraid, fear, suspense, and despair evident on our faces. Miep and Kugler carry the heaviest burden of the eight in hiding, Miep in all she does, and Kugler through his enormous sense of responsibility for all of us, which is sometimes so much for him that he can hardly talk from pent-up nerves and strain. Kleiman and Bep look after us well too, but they can forget us at times, even if it’s only for a few hours, or a day, or even two days. They have their own worries, Kleiman over his health, Bep over her engagement, which is not altogether rosy, and they also have their little outings, visits to friends, and the whole
life of ordinary people. For them the burden is sometimes lifted, even if it is only for a short time, but for us it never lifts for a moment. We’ve been here for two years now, how long have we still to put up with this almost unbearable, ever increasing pressure?
The sewer is blocked, so we mustn’t run water, or rather only a trickle, when we go to the W.C. we have to take a lavatory brush with us, and we keep dirty water in a large Cologne pot. We can manage for today, but what do we do if the plumber can’t do the job alone? The municipal scavenging service doesn’t come until Tuesday.
Miep sent us a currant cake made up in the shape of a doll with the words ‘Happy Whitsun’ on the note attached to it. It’s almost as if she’s ridiculing us; our present frame of mind and our uneasiness could hardly be called ‘happy.’ The fate of the vegetable man has made us more nervous, you hear ‘ssh, ssh’ from all sides again, and we’re being quieter over everything. The police forced the door there, so they could do it to us too! If one day we too should … no, I mustn’t write it, but I can’t put the question out of my mind today. On the contrary, all the fear I’ve already been through seems to face me again in all its frightfulness.
This evening at 8 o’clock I had to go downstairs to the lavatory all alone; there was no one down there, as everyone was listening to the radio; I wanted to be brave, but it was difficult. I always feel much safer here upstairs than alone downstairs in that large, silent house, alone with the mysterious muffled noises from upstairs and the tooting of motor horns in the street. I have to hurry for I start to quiver if I begin thinking about the situation.
I ask myself again and again, would it not have been better for us all if we had not gone into hiding, and if we were dead now and not going through all this misery, especially as we shouldn’t be running our protectors into danger any more. But we all recoil from these thoughts too, for we still love life, we haven’t yet forgotten the voice of nature, we still hope; hope for everything. I hope something will happen soon now, shooting if need be —nothing can crush us more than this restlessness. Let the end come, even
