Dear Anne Frank

Dearest Anne Frank,

I thought of writing you the moment I finished leafing through your diary. I wanted to tell you you made it. I wanted to congratulate you because your work made it past the annex and beyond the pacific. I wish to tell you how I admire you as a girl and as an artist. But I’m writing you out of helplessness now. Can I tell you how I feel Anne?

I’m writing to you now because I have just sunken so low. My heart can only take so much; I know very well you’d understand what it’s like. I am trapped within my own annex, without an attic or a Peter to appease me. I feel so alone Anne. I’ve always felt that way but I feel like a rejected, rotten potato left alone inside a sack. I need friends, but I can’t call one. I haven’t been good to anyone and I don’t deserve one if you ask me.

I might be depressed, but I might just be overthinking. I know I am unhappy, I have been unhappy for a while now. I’d like to think I’m just having an interesting life story, but the fact I made so many bad decisions is overwhelming for it has been breathing down my neck.

I used to think I’m different in a good way, now I see myself as someone lesser than most people I know. This is the truth Anne, for if it’s not, then why am I always falling short in everything? Why are people with worse condition less miserable than I am? I am rotten deep down and there are too many things I’m incapable of. These days I feel like I’m not really good at writing at all.

Today I’m throwing the towel.

I know I am strong -but the exasperating battle with my two inner wolves ends here. I will admit defeat.

I am not smart nor wise after all. I am stupid to think I have wisdom. I can’t even stray away from the quicksand. I want to go somewhere far, alone. But I need people too. Pathetic. I’m tired of crying to sleep. I’m tired of trying hard not to weep. I’m tired of everything. Last night I felt like I understood people who chose not to play the game of life anymore. I was on the edge.  Then I heard God.

We had a heart to heart that night.

-          J.

( I’ll tell you more tomorrow)