Status Updates From The Early Diary of Anais Ni...

The rose and gold shine for a short time compared to the dark colors, which last like all real things, while the others live just the days of illusion and dreams - one day - like butterflies.

Sometimes It seems as though I shall always remain on the wrong side of the ocean that one has to cross to reach the other side, cross It or drown.

I shall never be anything special, I know, but I console myself by thinking that even if I don't become famous or rich, I shall be and can be Happy with a pen and a morsel of bread, daily bread.

It seems to me I am looking for something, I don't know what, but when my free spirit escapes from the powerful claws of that mortale enemy, the World, It seems to me I find what I wanted.

When I read and reread these pages, I am glad to be able to say: this is a special story. What does It matter if nobody understands It. Am I writing for other people? No. I write for me, for myself. My voice is unknown.

I prefer to give miself to my pen, I prefer to write, not for glory or to become known, no, only to write, to let those who want to understand my heart know it, in order to reform it.

I don't aspire to anything, I just want to be allowed to think and contemplate the landscape and to be left ti read in peace, that's the truth.

I’m starting to think papa isn’t coming back..

Where is papa

Why do I relate so much to a 12 year old girl?