April 6, 1990 | Tacoma | Age 12
Dear Diary,
As I sit here in bed, near my feet I can see all stuffed animals and such lined up like they're posing for a picture. I've been so mean to them, shuffling [them] from one place to the next. They probably hate me. I've always been one to feel guilty easily about everything. Oh well.
*
When I finish this I'm going to read 'Alice in Wonderland' to Pecilica, my plant [smiley face]
*
I wrote to you today. Writing to you is my joy, Anne.
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