Anne Frank sat at the small writing desk in her room. Her diary open to a blank page and a fountain pen in her hand. It had been nearly two years since she received her diary back on her 13th birthday⌠one of the very last memories she has in her home⌠and it's been nearly two years since her family had gone into hiding in the Secret Annex⌠the Annex where she wrote her diaryâŚ
Her diary; her one true friend; 'Kitty' as she called it. To Anne, writing was important to her. It was her way of venting her problems, her frustrations, her worries, and most of all her fears⌠but combined with all of that, was both hopefulness, beauty, and peace. When she wrote, whether it be a random short story, or a diary entry, she always felt most at peace. When she wrote, gripping the pen between her fingers, she felt all her worries and fears disappear. When she wrote⌠she felt freeâŚ