Anne finds a great deal of solace in her diary; it is, in effect, her best friend, her confidante; she calls it "Kitty," and on its pages she feels absolutely free to complain of her sense of frustration at not being able to give vent to her feelings. But, most of all, she feels frustrated because she has no real person whom she can truly confide in — and receive encouragement from — just through expressing her feelings. Only her diary can do that for her.
Under normal circumstances, Anne would probably have confided her feelings to a friend, but these were not normal circumstances, and the only outlet for Anne's emotions lay within the pages of the small, red-checkered, cloth-covered diary.
In addition, Anne also gives factual accounts of some humorous events that occur, such as the splitting of a seam on a sack of beans which Peter was carrying up the stairs, so that "a positive hailstorm of brown beans came pouring down and rattled down the stairs . . . [I was] standing at the bottom of the stairs, like a little island in the middle of a sea of beans!" (November 9, 1942). She also recounts the serious discussion which precedes the decision as to whether or not they should take in an eighth person, an elderly dentist, Albert Düssel, who will have to move into Anne's room because of a lack of space.
Living in such cramped conditions with seven other people is bound to take its toll on anyone, particularly when discovery means almost certain death, yet Anne always tries to accept their situation in a positive way and to keep her spirits up: "Quite honestly, I'm not so keen that a stranger should use my things, but one must be pre-pared to make some sacrifices for a good cause, so I shall make my little offering with a good will. 'If we can save someone, then everything else is of secondary importance,' says Daddy, and he's absolutely right" (November 19, 1942).
