I keep hoping to discover that he's dying to see me, and I'm in raptures when I notice his bashful attempts.
I think he'd like to be able to express himself as easily as I do; little does he know it's his awkwardness that I find so touching.
TUESDAY, MARCH 7, 1944
Dearest Kitty, When I think back to my life in 1942, it all seems so unreal.
The Anne Frank who enjoyed that heavenly existence was completely different from the one who has grown wise within these walls.
Yes, it was heavenly. Five admirers on every street corner, twenty or so friends, the favorite of most of my teachers,
spoiled rotten by Father and Mother, bags full of candy and a big allowance. What more could anyone ask for?
You're probably wondering how I could have charmed all those people. Peter says it's because I'm “attractive,”
but that isn't it entirely. The teachers were amused and entertained by my clever answers, my witty remarks, my smiling face and my critical mind.
That's all I was: a terrible flirt, coquettish and amusing.
I had a few plus points, which kept me in everybody's good graces: I was hardworking, honest and generous.
I would never have refused anyone who wanted to peek at my answers, I was magnanimous with my candy, and I wasn't stuck-up.
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