The last entry Anne Frank wrote in her diary was on August 1, 1944. In this entry, she reflects on her complex personality, feeling that she often shows a different side of herself to others compared to her true inner self. She writes about her struggle to reconcile these two sides of her character and expresses a longing for self-improvement and inner peace. Here’s an excerpt from that final entry:
Tuesday, August 1, 1944
Dearest Kitty,
“A bundle of contradictions” was the end of my previous letter and is the beginning of this one. Can you please tell me exactly what “a bundle of contradictions” is? What does “contradiction” mean? Like so many words, it can be interpreted in two ways: contradiction by itself or contradiction as an integral part of a bigger whole.
The contradiction in my own character, which I pointed out in my last letter, is something I’ve only just recently begun to realize. To be honest, I didn’t want to see it at first, but now I’m really getting a closer look. For example, my desperate desire to be honest, a completely honest person, clashes with my tendency to consider other people’s feelings and avoid hurting them by lying. This conflict inside me is a result of the duality which is part of my personality.
On the one hand, there’s my exuberant cheerfulness, my flippancy, my joy in life, and, above all, my ability to appreciate the lighter side of things. By that, I mean not finding anything wrong with flirting, a kiss, an embrace, an off-color joke. This side is usually lying in wait to ambush me and then, backing off when it gets bored, laughs at me to my face and does its best to undo the other half, my better half, which is much purer, deeper, and finer.
No one knows Anne’s better side, and that’s why most people can’t stand me. Oh, I can be an amusing clown for an afternoon, but after that, everyone’s had enough of me to last a month. Actually, I’m what a romantic film is to a profound thinker—a mere diversion, a comic interlude, something that is soon forgotten: not bad, but not particularly good either.
I hate having to tell you this, but why shouldn’t I admit it when I know it’s true? My lighter, more superficial side will always get the better of me, and therefore always win. You can’t imagine how often I’ve tried to push away this Anne, which is only half of what is known as Anne—to beat her down, hide her. But it doesn’t work, and I know why.
I’m afraid that people who know me as I usually am will discover I have another side, a better and finer side. I’m afraid they’ll mock me, think I’m ridiculous and sentimental, and not take me seriously. I’m used to not being taken seriously, but only the “lighthearted” Anne is used to it and can put up with it; the “deeper” Anne is too weak.
If I force the good Anne into the spotlight for even fifteen minutes, she shuts up like a clam the moment she gets laughed at. For this reason, people think I’m an egotist who doesn’t want to allow herself to be “bushed aside.” No one knows that I’m doing it to protect myself from getting hurt.
That’s why I always wind up coming back to my diary—I start there and end there because Kitty’s always patient. I promise her that, despite everything, I’ll keep going, that I’ll find my own way and choke back my tears. I only wish I could see some results or, just once, receive encouragement from someone who loves me.
Yours, Anne M. Frank
“Lieve Kitty,
Ik weet precies hoe ik zou willen zijn, hoe ik ben… van binnen, maar helaas ben ik zo alleen voor mezelf. En misschien, nee, zeker ook voor jou.
Ik ben ernstig van karakter en doe veel meer van binnen dan van buiten. Daarom ben ik een heel ander mens van binnen dan dat ik naar buiten toe laat zien.
Ik ben in de helft gespleten. Van binnen kan de zon schijnen, terwijl van buiten er regen en storm is. Van buiten ben ik niets dan een opgewekt meisje dat geen hartenlust slaat, geen tijd heeft om na te denken over de reden van haar ellende en altijd goedgehumeurd is.
Maar, zoals ik je al meer verteld heb, het is maar een aangeleerd stukje tweede natuur. Ik probeer mezelf naar buiten toe aan te passen, want ik wil niet iedereen zijn verdriet laten zien, dat is er nu eenmaal.
Mijn vrolijkheid is schijn, mijn veerkracht een aangeleerd stukje tweede natuur. Ik probeer iedereen altijd alles te vertellen, maar ik houd zo veel voor mezelf. En juist dat maakt me opgewonden, ik weet niet waarom ik het doe. Ik huil soms binnenin me, en dat weet niemand.
Ik probeer ertegen te vechten, ik probeer eroverheen te komen, ik probeer het goede op te bouwen, het slechte om te keren. Maar het lukt me niet, ik voel me hopeloos en verdrietig. En ik keer steeds terug naar mijn dagboek, mijn enige toeverlaat en vriend.
Jouw Anne”
This entry poignantly illustrates Anne’s inner turmoil and her efforts to balance her inner feelings with the persona she projected to those around her.
Sources:
https://www.britannica.com/video/180147/Overview-Anne-Frank-House-Amsterdam
https://www.history.com/this-day-in-history/anne-frank-writes-her-last-diary-entry
History of Sorts 
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