I can't let them see my doubts, or the wounds they've inflicted on me.

New problems: Mrs. Van Daan is desperate, talks about a bullet through her head, prison, hanging, and suicide. She's jealous that Peter confides in me and not her.

My writing has raised me somewhat from the depths of despair.

We, too, shall have to move on again with our little bundles, and leave this beautiful country, which offered us such warm welcome and which now turns it back on us. I love Holland, I who, having no native country, had hoped that it might become my fatherland, and I still hope it will!

I don't want to have lived in vain like most people. I want to be useful or bring enjoyment to all people, even those I've never met. I want to go on living even after my death!

I think spring is inside me. I feel spring awakening, I feel it in my entire body and soul. I have to force myself to act normally. I'm in a state of utter confusion, don't know what to read, what to write, what to do. I only know that I'm longing for something...

Crying can bring such relief.