Reading a book I was supposed to read when I was 13

I have been reading ‘The Diary of Anne Frank”. Thought I would cheer myself up. I have never read it, not terribly good jewish girl of me, but I’m not. I found a hard cover copy in the thrift store in Grand Forks. I can see why so many people have identified with her. She doubts herself, as do most thirteen year olds and average humans, but she is also funny, a bit goofy, old-soul smart, occasionally annoying, but very lovable and so brave. I wish I had the drive to write when I was young, when secrets were killing me and my family, a book of my own, where I could say everything. I have it now, her name is Hanna. I am only on page 65 and we all know how it ends, even without reading it. She left the world a great gift. I know it’s probably a very tired cliché, jewish girls wanting to be like Anne, any girls or boys wanting to be like Anne. I aspire to be like anyone who is brave, funny, loving, wise and smart. Sometimes, but not at the moment, I can be.