Wednesday, 22 May 2013
Rereading H. A., this time in English, I feel exactly the same way I felt a couple of years ago. It's probably because I thought it sounded absurd to others that I never mentioned this on any of my blogspot blogs before, but it was because of Anne that I started keeping a diary whilst in junior high school, it was thanks to her that I went through my worst times without killing myself, it was thanks to her that I cried myself to sleep every night but was able to stand up and cope with the next day for several years, it was thanks to her that during those days when I felt utterly alone I felt better knowing I wasn't completely alone when feeling her presence even though she was more or less imaginary. After 3 or 2 years concerning myself with other things, I now realise H. A. has always been the most important and significant book in my life and for nearly 20 years I have never felt closer to anybody than to her. She's always been my best friend, closest friend, true friend, my kindred spirit. So I guess now that it doesn't matter much any more if I sound crazy to you, anybody that happens to read these lines.