The End of the Diary of Anne Frank

Dec 28, 2016

The first thing that happened today was I went snowboarding. Then I promptly lost Steven's Dad's keys. I don't know how I manage to loose things all the time. Steven wonders why I just can't fix the problem since it happens to me so frequently. I sincerely think that it's because I wasn't taught proper habits in keeping them. I want to read some books on memory that perhaps might help. You see, I forgot to zip my pocket up properly, and I forgot to attach the keys to my wallet that had a Tile attached in order for me to find them easily. I set up all these precautions and then forget to use them!

The last time I lost something was first my phone, then my keys on my last date with Aaron. I also managed to run over the median. The date seemed so fun, he talked about his relationship with his father and then his fake dad (who is his mother's boyfriend. It seems that he was basically raised by him since he was 10, and they might be breaking up because of the distance! How horrible!) But the disastrous underpinnings might have been enough, because that day was basically the last time he's ever spoken to me.

I was thinking of him now especially, since I just finished Anne Frank. He's Jewish and his grandparents were on holiday during Kristallnacht. A friend of theirs notified them not to return, and instead they made their way to "America" (or the US as I usually call it, to honor the Southern Countries.)

For a moment, when I reached the end, I was seized in terror thinking that perhaps my grandparents had something to do with Nazi Germany, as I just today read in the Afterword of Anne's Diary (funny that a thing should be capitalized) that Auschwitz was in Poland. But why Poland should give me such a start when I'm just as German as I am Polish. But my grandparents' grandparents had come to America, and my grandfather had served in the USArmy during WWII. Both of my grandfathers had! My father's father as a Pakistani general, and my mother's father was something.

I actually don't know what my mother's father was.

I realized then, lying in bed, trying to get myself to sleep with thoughts of Aaron and Anne and my parents that I didn't know much about my mother's side of the family. Did any of us stay in Germany? Did we participate in the slaughter? What an odd history I have? To be muslim, and so obsessed with Judaism from a young age, and then perhaps to have had a great grand uncle who might have hurt someone else in Aaron's family? I want to know my genealogy now. I'm obsessed now. There are so many people in the world, but really, there aren't that many at all, and I want to know how many people I pass by with ghosts that know mine.

I also breezed pass this, but I realize...I wrote that I was obsessed with Judaism, but when did that happen? I can't seem to remember. And it is m sister that is obsessed. More and more these days, I seem to catch glimpses of similarities between us. Am I turning into her? Or was I always like her and never knew...


Steven laughs beside me and asks if I'm keeping this diary because I'm afraid Trump will send me to a concentration camp. The thought did cross my mind, but I think it will be an internment camp and I spend my days thinking of what life will be like inside Steven's very cramped attic, where he has promised to keep me.

I know I'm ridiculous, but I often wonder if Aaron will miss me while I'm stuck there. Most people think I'm being silly, and I don't think I will win any bets on such a thing happening, but it's better to have made precautions than to be kicking yourself later. I should know; I've made that mistake far too many times already.