It must be awful to feel you're not needed.

No one must know that my heart and mind are constantly at war with each other.

I'm my best and harshest critic. I know what's good and what isn't.

Surely the time will come when we are people again, and not just Jews.

I can shake off everything if I write; my sorrows disappear, my courage is reborn. But, and that is the greatest question, will I ever be able to write anything great, will I ever become a journalist or a writer? I hope so, oh, I hope so very much, for I can recapture everything when I write, my thoughts, my ideas and my fantasies.

Dear Kitty, Nothing special going on here.

And what would be the point of turning the Secret Annex into a Melancholy Annex?