Her diary ends with this:
Believe me, I’d like to listen, but it doesn’t work, because if I’m quiet and serious, everyone thinks I’m putting on a new act and I have to save myself with a joke, and then I’m not even talking about my own family, who assume I must be sick, stuff me with aspirins and sedatives, feel my neck and forehead to see if I have a temperature, ask about my bowel movements and berate me for being in a bad mood, until I just can’t keep it up anymore, because when everybody starts hovering over me, I get cross, then sad, and finally end up turning my heart inside out, the bad part on the outside and the good part on the inside, and keep trying to find a way to become what I’d like to be and what I could be if … if only there were no other people in the world.
The Diary of Anne Frank is one of those books that prove more and more emotionally taxing to read as I get older. What a beautiful little person. She had a wisdom beyond her years–born of innate decency and mature reflection. Just looking at her photo makes my heart ache. We share a birthday, which first drew me to her. Even now, her basic humanity and thoughtful perspective remain a goal that still eludes my reach. She embodied both the potential goodness of man, and the toll of our failures.
“Emotionally taxing”. You are so so right. I almost can’t read the book at all now. It’s too much. But all of those people remain emblazoned in my mind.
Happy birthday, DBW … as always, it is good to hear from you. :)
And in several European countries, half the people think that “Jews still talk too much about what happened to them in the Holocaust.” 62% in Poland, and 48% in Austria, Germany, Hungary, italy, Spain, and Switzerland.
http://photoncourier.blogspot.com/2005_06_01_photoncourier_archive.html#111842201078203659
Anne Frank was an amazing girl. I never made it through her Diary, not because I didn’t get into it, I just had problems crying and reading. It makes the Holocaust seem so personal and real, and makes the evil of the Nazis seem palpable.
Happy Birthday, Anne, Rest in Peace.
My daughter and I started reading her diaries last year, then stopped (my daughter didn’t “push” and neither did I, as she was only 10 at the time). She’s now reading it again (since I bought a copy for home vs. the school library) and asked me today if I’d “read it with her.”
This is both beautiful and ugly at the same time. What a brilliant and shining spirit. I sincerely hope that she is resting in peace, knowing the impact she has made.