Anne Frank

Poignant intricacies in delusional times.

“In bed at night, as I ponder my many sins and exaggerated shortcomings, I get so confused by the sheer amount of things I have to consider that I either laugh or cry, depending on my mood. Then I fall asleep with the strange feeling of wanting to be different than I am or being different than I want to be, or perhaps of behaving differently than I am or want to be.”

“We’re all alive, but we don’t know why or what for; we’re all searching for happiness; we’re all leading lives that are different and yet the same. We three have been raised in good families, we have the opportunity to get an education and make something of ourselves. We have many reasons to hope for great happiness, but. . . we have to earn it. And that’s something you can’t achieve by taking the easy way out. Earning happiness means doing good and working, not speculating and being lazy. Laziness may look inviting, but only work gives you true satisfaction.”

Just when she was beginning to evince her real self… an incident occurs. It broke my heart – having witnessed the end. The world lost a great soul, someone for whom one is compelled to wonder – What could have become of as fine a girl as Anne Frank?
My heart sank and plaintively shew a touch of sadness.
Why are the living are few and the dead so many?!

But in her words:
“I don’t think of all the misery, but of the beauty that still remains.”

The many words of wisdom to her mighty pen have touched me beyond words. Hence, I pacify myself by believing a few things to be better unsaid.
This post is a solemn dedication to a girl who was no older than I am.

“What a wonderful thought that some of the best days of our lives haven’t even happened yet.”

Her accounts made me laugh and cry and brought the most organic, genuine and uplifting smiles on my face; as she sought the ubiquity of gelukzaligheid.

© achillesheelpoetry, 2021

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This blog post was not published to exhibit creativity, instead I felt it was incumbent on me to spread the word through Achilles’ Heel, after having read The Diary of a Young Girl by Anne Frank. It is something that evoked this sharp a sense of realism that I was compelled to share it.