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.