I feel like burying my head under the blankets to keep from thinking, “When will we be allowed to breathe fresh air again?”
I can't do that -- on the contrary, I have to hold my head up high and put a bold face on things,
but the thoughts keep coming anyway. Not just once, but over and over.
Believe me, if you've been shut up for a year and a half, it can get to be too much for you sometimes.
But feelings can't be ignored, no matter how unjust or ungrateful they seem.
I long to ride a bike, dance, whistle, look at the world, feel young and know that I'm free, and yet I can't let it show.
Just imagine what would happen if all eight of us were to feel sorry for ourselves
or walk around with the discontent clearly visible on our faces. Where would that get us?
I sometimes wonder if anyone will ever understand what I mean, if anyone will ever overlook my ingratitude
and not worry about whether or not I'm Jewish and merely see me as a teenager badly in need of some good plain fun.
I don't know, and I wouldn't be able to talk about it with anyone, since I'm sure I'd start to cry.
Crying can bring relief, as long as you don't cry alone.
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