We All Live With The

In Spite Of Everything I Still Believe That People Are Really Good At Heart. I Simply Can't Build Up My Hopes On A Foundation Consisting Of Confusion, Misery And Death.

Then I Fall Asleep With A Stupid Feeling Of Wishing To Be Different From What I Am Or From What I Want To Be; Perhaps To Behave Differently From The Way I Want To Behave Or Do Behave.

Writing In A Diary Is A Really Strange Experience For Someone Like Me. Not Only Because I’ve Never Written Anything Before, But Also Because It Seems To Me That Later On Neither I Nor Anyone Else Will Be Interested In The Musings Of A Thirteen-year Old School Girl. Oh Well, It Doesn’t Matter. I Feel Like Writing.

Riches, Power And Fame Last Only For A Few Years! Why Do People Cling So Desperately To These Transitory Things? Why Can't People Who Have More Than They Need For Themselves Give That Surplus To Their Fellow Citizens? Why Should Some People Have Such A Hard Time During Their Few Years On This Earth?

We Lit The Stove A Few Days Ago And The Entire Room Is Filled With Smoke. I Prefer Central Heating, And I'm Probably Not The Only One.