2001-11-09 19:09:22 (UTC)


Oh, God, I've just had to marrige-counsel (is there such a
word?) my mother. I'm fifteen, for heaven sakes! But my
father is giving her such a hard time there's no-one else
she can talk to. I'm glad I can make her feel a little
better, but my God! the responsibility! It seems more and
more lately like I'm being forced into the position of
almost being my own mother. I read this in Anne Frank's
diary last night, and was suprised on how well it fit. She
was in virtual Hell, and I'm not, but the feeling is the

"We're much too young to deal with these problems, but they
keep thrusting themselves on us until, finally, we're
forced to think up a solution, though most of the time our
solutions crumble when faced with the facts. It's difficult
in times like these: ideals, dreams and cherished hopes
rise within us, only to be crushed by grim reality. It's a
wonder I haven't abandoned all my ideals, they seem so
absurd and impractical. Yet I cling to them because I still
believe, in spite of everything, that people are truly good
at heart.

"...And yet, when I look up at the sky, I somehow feel that
everything will change for the better, that this cruelty
too shall end, that peace and tranquility will return once
more. In the meantime, I must hold on to my ideals. Perhaps
the day will come when I'll be able to realize them!"

I'm waiting, too. Waiting for next fall when I start 11th
grade at Camden High. Waiting to get my dl. Waiting until
I'm old enough to be in control. But I still believe in the
basic goodness of man.