Day 24

How could I go my whole life without realizing that Big Brother is only helping me! I love him, and my insolence has shielded my eyes for forty years, but now I understand. He has made the world a better place, and two plus two DOES make five. I cannot believe I ever loved a woman. That is against Ingsoc and against my beliefs. I reconnected with Julia and she is no longer the beauty she used to be; only an old, stiff woman. As the victory news rings out on the telescreen, I praise the victory I have won inside my heart.

Day 23

To love Big Brother, I must be tortured...tortured by my most unimaginable fear. I did not know until they were there...rats! O'Brien would torture me with rats, and let the vicious little monsters chew me like a chew-toy. And then, at the brink of insanity, I realized I would do anything, anything to stop this. I would put anything in my place to stop these vicious rats from torturing me. I would put Julia! I would leave Julia to die, my companion. I would let my only companion die, because I loved Big Brother.

Day 22

From the ugly, old man I was, I am now a refreshed, young stallion who runs in the pastures of the Golden Country. They have given me dentures, and new overalls, too, to hide my true identity. Although I obey him, I hate Big Brother with every last ounce of my might! I understand the ways of Ingsoc, but I do understand why I live and am living like this. I know that my brains will be splattered across the walls of Big Brother, but I do not know when. I live in paranoia, and now, I am ready to go to Room 101.

Day 21

Power, the Party is only for power. They do not care of the well-being of us humans. They are not humans; they are robots who plan to diminish the world where sex is useless, babies are born into castes, a world of hatred and fear. But this world is not real, and it will not survive, because hatred and fear cannot defeat the morality of man. I may have turned into an emaciated, ugly, old man whose teeth and hair fall out so helplessly, but humans will survive. Persecution and power are not strong enough to defeat; they will only destroy.

Day 20

Oh, how the pain surges through my body like an animal eats and churns my insides out as I am abused and nearly killed by O'Brien. How could he abuse and torture me with such maliciousness? I do not care about my crimes anymore, or two plus two makes four, but that the pain will go away. And when it stopped, I am sure that O'Brien is right and I am wrong. Whether the Party holds up four fingers or five fingers or three fingers, what is said goes, and is not to be questioned, because the Party is RIGHT. No matter which side the Party is on, they are always, always on the right side.

Day 19

The jail is like Hell, but worse. I sit and wait, next to drunks, black marketeers, drug peddlers, thieves, bandits...everyone who I am not. Me, I am here, for I was caught, by a PHOTO! Torture and starvation are key in this area, this area where daytime is a lifetime. I cannot tell time, and not even a crumb of bread is given to me. I die a little inside, and begin to die, as my life decays right in front of my sad, little eyes. I cannot take this, but there is nothing left. I will die, but I would do anything to save Julia, to be with her, to love her once more. I would do anything, but in the face of "anything," I believe I would be forced to rethink my beliefs. For now, I will sit, relax, and slowly die alone. My biggest fear, ALONE.

Day 18

Beauty can be found in the weirdest places, but so can hidden personalities. Is anything in my material life real? I thought he could be my friend, I thought he was taking care of me for a reason, but now I see that I can trust no person, not even Mr. Charrington. An old man of about 70, a sincere, kind, caring man, cannot be trusted just as much as a young juvenile who is innocent. No one, not even Julia, is to be trusted. What will my life be like? I may die, but I shall not be afraid. I shall die, not in vain, but with glory, and might, and Julia! I WILL!

Day 17

90 hours of work and still not a good night's sleep! I am so tired from the endless amounts of work I had to do in changing the fact that we are now at war with Eastasia and we have always been allies with Eurasia! How absurd can people get to believe this?! One of the speakers even changed his words halfway through his sentences, and people believed themselves to be sabotaged for they were holding Anti-Eurasia signs high in the sky. But I am finally glad that I have the book. I find it very interesting seeing the sides of Goldstein, and I hope I can share more time reading the book with Julia.

Day 16

Day 15

Alas! There is a 'Brotherhood!' I knew it, I knew it, I knew it! But what is so unreal is that the "Inner Party" is going against Big Brother, yet they are the ones with the most confidential information. With how technologically advanced they are, I am surprised that they have not overtaken BB already. Although I pledge for a better future, I cannot move through time without...without...Julia. I love her, and she cannot/will not promise that she will be able to live without me. O'Brien tells me I may have to change my clothes, my appearance, or even my face...and all this is fine, as long as I still have my love, Julia.

Day 14

The little jealous child I was is not who I am now. I may have killed my mother and my sister, and maybe even my dad as well, but I will save others. Every person who has feelings is human. But I, and Julia, and the Thought Police as well, are not human. We all contain no emotions in our heads, for we slaughter and kill endlessly. But the Proles, the barbaric, inhumane, exotic Proles, have stayed human. Last week, I may have kicked a Prole's hand like a kick ball, but now, I can change. For the Thought Police cannot control my thoughts. They may alter my positions on things but me, myself and I are genuine. I will stay this way, for the sake of my family, for I love them and meant them no harm.

Day 13

And it happened so suddenly.

O'Brien slipped the paper into my hands--his address. He did it right in front of the telescreen like any lunatic would do. But maybe this is what he meant to do. I shall fulfill my dreams; my dreams of meeting him where there is no darkness. I shall act instead of write. I will bring my words to life. I will not let Newspeak take away my power of speech, so I will act and I will fulfill my destiny, whether or not my fate is so pleasant.

Day 12

I love Julia but I do not know if I can live like this any longer. We almost never have a genuine, deep conversation, and hardly ever see each other. But the few times I do see her make up for the times missed. Although she may not seem like the sharpest tool in the shed, her deep analysis of problems in societies and other people's lives is great. She helps with all of my problems, and I love her more and more every time I see her. I just wish we were together, and not scared of telescreens, or Big Brother watching us, or microphones amplifying our every sound.

Day 11

I love Julia, but her schedule and my schedule do not correspond. She is always having to attend Junior Anti-Sex League or Pornosec or book-manufacturing. I want to be with her. When I decided to tell her about my plans for a rebel against the party, she laughed. She only plans to evade the law, and have sex with every man while she is doing it. She lives life to the fullest and has a capricious mindset. her thoughts are so different from mine, but I love her, and...she loves me?

Day 10

We met in the country, and slyly, passionately made sweet love, like a dream. She is beautiful and I love her. Until she told me that she has had sex thousands of times, only with party members; then, I loved her even more, for she is helping to break apart the community of Big Brother. She is corrupt, and I find that arousing. But I am afraid she might tell me more things, and I may uncover more lies. Although I feel I can trust her, I am not sure if anything else will exit from her sweet, soft lips...

Day 9

The girl I hated, the girl I wanted to smash her head in with a cobblestone, is now my lover. I long to be with her, for she has recently told me that "she loves me." These words have never come out of another person's mouth; and most of all, these words have never been...sincere. I love her, and I yearn the day when we can live happier, in a future town, where lovers can get married...and be happy. No longer do the thoughts of suicide roam my mind. No longer do I hate everyone. No longer am I negative. No longer...am I me. I am changed, for the better, and the only thing that flows through my mind is her intricate words of love and passion. My mind, filled with throughtcrimes, is my nirvana, the place I am most happiest. But how can a woman LIKE HER get a man LIKE ME?

Day 8

I went through the streets, trying to find someone who would know something, anything, about the past. What was it like? Was it better or worse? And then I went into the Prole Pub and persisted in buying an old man apint of beer. I patiently tried to get out all of the information I could but the dumb, old man only reminisced about a time when he got pushed. Doesn't anyone ever listen?

I then walked over to the store, hoping to find any clues of the past. But something that intrigued me was a piece of coral enveloped in a glass casing. It was so mysterious and so beautiful I HAD to buy it. Mr. Charrington, the store manager, then told me about the old churches that still remain. These could be clues to the past. I may get a hitch! What if the churches are still there! And they are, so I can go over to take a look around. Fantastic!

But the scariest thing happened to me when I exited. Knowing, the dangers of walking in the Proletariat District at night was some risky business, I slyly walked through a dark alley. Then, I saw the girl, the red-headed bombshell! A spy, alas! But I ran away, resisting the temptation to smash her head in with a cobblestone, away from the area we looked at each other. I ran, ran, ran, and then I was back home, or was it even my home? It sure did not feel comforting, or warm, like the books say; unless, they have been altered as well.

Suicide! I would kill myself before the Thought Police got me. But wait! O'Brien would meet me where there is no darkness! This I believe, is the future. I will stay alive; I have to stay alive, for the people. I am the chosen one, who will fight for a better future, for brighter days in London, Airstrip One and all of Oceania.

Day 7

If there is hope, it lies in the Proles. They are the biggest group of all of the citizens of Oceania, and a rebellion started by the Proles would be like the inner core of an apple attacking the crust. But the Proles are not educated enough, and they live lives of animals; they do not contain the educational level needed to rebel; they do not even know they are mistreated. But the Proles, if they ever do, will change the world, once and for good.

This unfair world should be changed, and I remember one time when I caught Big Brother in a lie. If I caught him once, it is only human nature to believe that history will repeat itself. Although, with history constantly edited and revised, it is a question whether or not history is changing. Are babies really living healthier and happier lives? Has the literacy rate went up? Are people stronger and livelier? "?"

Day 6

Katharine: the dim-witted, stupid person I called my wife. I did not love her, but nowadays, no one loved their wives, for marriage was only for making babies. The few times we had sex, she would stare at the ceiling like she had seen a ghost. She was a talkative, hypnotized young woman who repeated the lines of Big Brother as if they were a prayer of hers. So one day, I decided, it was time to have some FUN, F-U-N.

I went out in an alleyway, and I saw this young lady. She yelled at me, "Two dollars," and we proceeded to break the law. Prostitution was against the law, but there were no laws. If you were caught, you were killed or forced to work. But hey, its better than THIS! This world I live in. Or maybe just as equal.

I hate, hate, hate this memory, but I have to right it down. But it is not helping to express my thoughts. Maybe because thoughts do not even exist anymore. Maybe the Though Police has hacked into the minds of all citizens and tore out our feelings and emotions like a lion ripping out the heart of its prey. Maybe...

Day 5

This town is...disgusting, putrid, rancid, nasty. I try to eat my own lunch without having to worry about the grime on the edges of the tables seeping into my pannikin. The trays are greasy and the tables are never cleaned. I would throw up if I could. If I could, because one slight, simple movement is like yelling into a megaphone, "HEY THOUGHT POLICE! VAPORIZE ME!"

While I was eating in the unsanitary room one would call a "cafeteria," my friend...well...comrade, Syme, came to sit with me at a table. It is crazy how he is so caught up in the whole idea of Newspeak. Him and all of the employees who are now editing the 11th dictionary do not understand that words are the only things that society has today. Too smart, soon-to-be vaporized. But what is the use of words if we can't even freaking open our mouths!?!

Day 4

I find myself to be repeating my normal, commonplace job, each and every day, abiding by all the rules of Ingsoc and believing Big Brother is watching me right now. This is not how I want my life to be. I do not want to be in a small cubicle all day. I do not want to be one person in a cell of fifty people in a building of 10,000 cells. Normality, ironically, is what sets apart this community.I do not want to spend my days changing the so-called "unchangeable past" and I definitely DO NOT want to go against my own will! I am too tired of changing gut feelings only because I will get vaporized...otherwise known as KILLED! I DO NOT want to live in this society, watching as parents and children alike, dissappear off the face of the Earth. I DO NOT want to be able to make up fictional stories of the past which are taken as truth. I DO NOT want to live in the society I live in!

Day 3

The past is the past...but not really the past...only an imaginary world which the tyrant, Big Brother, keeps switching for endless bull droppings! They destroy EVERYTHING I cannot even remember my mother...my own MOTHER! Maybe I did not even have parents! Maybe I am a robot! There is no DARN POINT in living if there IS nothing to live for.

Day 2

Stupid Big Brother. I do not care anymore if they catch me...at least I thought I didn't. I was so scared, I almost wet my britches when stupid old Parsons came to explain to me that her hellhole of a house had some stupid green mix in her sink. Make me wash your sink, get attacked by your feisty little children, make my vericose ulcer throb like an angry man's veins. I await the day when she suddenly...'disappears.'

To someone, somewhere, I write this diary where ages are different and the truth is the truth, not lies.

Day 1

April 4th, 1984

Hello future. Hello whoever you are. Or maybe I am only writing to myself. What year is it? Who were my parents? Who am I?

"Gulp" goes a swig of Victory Gin. My throat burns, my eyes tear, and suddenly... the world is a brighter, happier place. Big Brother stares at me, and I can't look back; his strong eyes pierce through me like a silver dagger.

I flicker the light switches, but they don't work. WORK, WORK, WORK! Nope, still not working. Everything in this room is obsolete, but I understand...kind of... Stupid lift shaft, stupid varicose ulcer, stupid light switches. Yet, there are ways I can escape this world; after all, there is always the Victory Gin I keep under my nightstand, which can always take me to a... MORE perfect world.

Pig iron, telescreen, boiled cabbage, and gray world that comforts me like a monster sleeping under a child's bed. My world is like a snow globe without snow flakes; something is missing. Big Brother stares at everything I do, but I guess this is good because he is only trying to help keep me safe, of course. But I still wonder what is happening in the Ministry of Love. Why is there barbed wire and hidden machine gun nests? Big Brother is like a brother, so why should he hide anything?

While I was working at the Ministry of Truth, I saw this woman, this hot, sexy...stupid, putrid woman. I want to smash her head in with a jack hammer! I want to see her blood stream all over the floor. I want to see her scarlet sash which resembles her abstinence be torn into shreds, and she falls to the ground, yelling and crying.

And while I write to you...future, unborn child...I don't care if they catch me...the Thought Police. There is nothing to be afraid of. What do I have to lose? A ramshackle house that smells like cabbage? Yet, I am still scared...for what?