Introduction

DOWN WITH BIG BROTHER
DOWN WITH BIG BROTHER
DOWN WITH BIG BROTHER
DOWN WITH BIG BROTHER

theyll shoot me i dont care theyll shoot me in the back of the neck i dont care down with big brother they always shoot you in the back of the neck i dont care down with big brother...

My,that mrs. parsons has a lot on her plate with her heckling children. they want to go see the hanging personally i dont find any interest in that. I wouldnt be surprised if one day they turned her in to the thoughtpolice-if she ever committed such a crime. thoughcrime does not entail death, thoughtcrime is death. you know who i bet committed thoughtcrime? that O'Brien man, hes part of the brotherhood. he said to me once “We shall meet in the place where there is no darkness."  in a dream. 

what did he mean? 

mother is drowning, mother was drowning last night in my dream. where is my mother? my father? i faintly remember a sister as well, all of whom left. They disappeared in a political purge. always at night, always they come and take you and shoot you. 

*beep*

ugh, physical jerks-must go to the telescreen.Back with more later

The Proles

at work in the ministry of truth, i rewrite documents to change the past, to change history.  I rewrote over an article about comrade withers, who is now an 'unperson'. i created comrade ogilvy, a perfect man in our society. how beautiful it is to create a world to believe whatver you want. because what you believe to be true is true.
i also suspect syme will be vaporized soon. he speaks too eloquently, he is too intelligent. for working on the newspeak dictionary, he is incredibly knowledged in the party, they probably know. parsons, on the other hand, is so dull and mundane, no one would ever suspect him of thought crime.

that girl though...
i hate her
i love her
i dreamed about her last night she was in the field of the golden country. the girl with the dark hair, young like a fresh rose.
i saw her at lunch today too, she was watching from afar. is she a party member?
my wife, katherine, i havent seen in years. the parole on the outskirts i faintly remember
no thats a lie i dinstincly remember every moment

she was a prole. She threw herself down on the bed, and at once, without any kind of preliminary, in the most coarse, horrbile way you can imagine, pulled up her skirt. I-
I turned up the lamp. When I saw her in the light she was quite an old woman, fifty years old at least. But I went ahead and did it just the same. 
If there is hope, it lies in the paroles
the 85% underneath us, they are not as brainwashed as the party members, they have feelings and longings and understand human desires. They cannot be controlled because they are much more than big brother, in the sense of capacity. 

(p.s. excuse my terrible grammar nowadays we dont even write or type we only use speakwrites and im struggling a lot with this)

Why?

Freedom is the freedom to say that 2+2=4.
if big brother said 2+2=5, you would have to believe it-or be guilty of thoughtcrime
submissing oneself so easily is not simple.
but i know the party is not perfect honest true
i saw a picture of rutherford, a party memeber in new york. it was the same date as the time the party said they were commiting treason in Eurasia. he was with others too. under the chestnut tree cafe. i wasnt to see that picture. ill get in big trouble
I understand HOW, i do not understand WHY
why would the government want to make them enemies? just because they have the power to?
i stopped by the antique shopt where i bought this diary and bought a coral as well. well, Charrington said it was a piece of coral, whatever it really is.
and that girl. i saw her again!!!! she was wearing blue overalls. she is stalking me! shell tell me off to the thought police. i thought of hitting her with my coral from the antique store. i thought of suicide when i got home. no one has knocked yet i cant be too safe though.

Julia

that girl was with a sling and she fell and i helped her up, when i reached out my hand, she put a piece of paper in it. i hesitated to read it for the first hours of work and then i read it. I love you, it said.
that was 1 week ago.
i saw her at lunch to try to talk to her alone. she told me instructions to meet her in victory square where i would be given instructions.
and then yesterday we met at the square and she gave instructions to the country side.
She had done so scores of times
and i learned that she is one who breaks the rules for the fun of it
i told her id push my wife off a cliff once and she (suprisingly) understood. 
We are the dead, i believe.
she told me we are not dead yet
her name is julia she told me, or so she told me so
i think i love her too

Hate Week

julia came over a few days ago and brought luxuries that only inner party members could possibly attain. bread, sugar, and coffee-real coffee, not victory coffee!! we talked for a while, then she left. i believe O'brien is part of the brotherhood i told her that. she said that the war between Eurasian and Oceania is only a party trick, and the rebel goldstein does not exist and i was appalled.
the city is preparing for hate week. streamers, banners, everyone is riled up and excited. and syme, that man, my comrade, i do not know where he has gone. perhaps he has been imprisoned by the thought police. i thought so... 
I've been spending more and more time in the room upstairs, i rented from mr. Charrington, the nice man at the antique shop julia and i go there a lot. she is very rebellious with her actions, but her mind set is still young, innocent, and quite orthodox. i told her you are only a rebel from the waist downwards and she laughed. 

O'Brien

syme has been taken, i knew he would i knew he would.
and O'brien contacted me, he asked me if i wanted to see a new version of the newspeak dictionary and i said sure. this is dangerous. i feel as every step I take walking down the path to his residence is a step to my death, the ministry of love. what is even in the ministry of love? It is such a sinister building... i suspect its a torture chamber. rumors that people who enter never come out.

i've learned! im back from visiting o'brien. i saw his house, which was nice and rich and luxurious- truly an inner party member. Julia came with. he told us about the brotherhood, the secret society. he offered us wine, which was extremely disappointing in taste. he made us promise to give our lives, commit murder, cheat, lie, change our selves,  in fact he did say we would emerge as completely changed people. he told us the brotherhood is nothing but a collection of people with the same idea. no secret meetings, code words, passwords. he also told us about goldstien's book. i am to receive it via a black briefcase tomorrow.

he also told me the stanza of that poem. that mysterious poem the man at the antique shop, Mr. Charrington said
"Oranges and lemons," say the bells of St. Clement's
"You ow me three farthings," say the bells of St. Martin's
"When will you pay me?" say the bells of Old Bailey
"When I grow rich," say the bells of Shoreditch.

Exhausted

I'm so so so so so so terribly tired i can barely muster the energy to dip this pen and continue writing...
a 90 hour work week! can you believe it! we here in the ministry of truth have been working nonstop since Oceania switched enemies and allies in the war. we slept in shifts on cots and ate sandwiches and coffee whenever we had a spare minute. every second more work would pour through, we spoke into the speakwrites so quickly, it was crazy... i got the book THE BOOK! but i haven't been able to read it yet, not even look at it one bit. I need to go sleep now, im so delirious i think i see julia at my door...im coming, my love...

The Book

finally, a break has come from the busy, hectic life at the ministry of truth. Oceania is at war with eastasia, and it has always been at war with eastasia. but i know thats not true, I remember.
anyway, I finished reading part of The Book, and it is quite intriguing. it describes the history (the real history?) behind the party slogans and the geography we now have today. It also described the upper middle and lower classes. also: doublethink. " ...but by the exercise of doublethink he also satisfies himself that reality is not violated . . . To tell deliberate lies while genuinely believing in them, to forget any fact that has become inconvenient, and then, when it becomes necessary, to draw it back from oblivion for just so long as it is needed, to deny the existence of objective reality and all the while to take account of the reality which one denies – all this is indispensably necessary. Even in using the word doublethink it is necessary to exercise doublethink." i found it very interesting. julia however, found it dull and fell asleep while i was reading. more tomorrow, it is late at night already.

Trapped

oh my goodness where to even begin? im so lost, im so confused. it is dark right now, so dark i can hardly see what im writing.. the telescreen is finally off, so I can write for a few minutes. this morning (maybe it was yesterday morning, i dont even have any track of time now) the thought police came i knew they would i knew they would it was time i had committed thought crime. and Mr. Charrington! when we thought we would get caught, the voice in the telescreen would repeat so. and it was his voice, Mr. Charrington was a thought police! Worst of all, they took Julia. and they beat her i dont know where she is now, i hope she is safe i love her. but I was taken in the back of a truck to this cell where these telescreens are constantly monitoring us. I saw a chinless man and a surly, husky lady and this poor man emaciated, starving to death. where am i? oh no, the screens are turning back on, I cant write anymore or else they will...

Torture

they have given me 3 minutes, 3 minutes to write in my diary. they almost confiscated it from me when they found out i had hidden it, but O'brien allowed me to keep it. o'brien is messing with me, whose side is he on? after a few hours, or days in the cell, I was taken by some guards to a tourture chamber, they beat you and made you confess to whatever they wanted you to say, whether it was true or not. they made me tell stories of secret anti-government societies even though i know now they dont exist they do to them. and i was a part of it!? o'brien is a minister of love, he treats me, and then tortures me, he tries to teach me and help me, but at the same time he is trying to brainwash me. they believe that the only way one can learn Big Brother's ways is through pain and torture. i haven't eaten, shaved, bathed, in a week now maybe. my time is up, i must leave now. 

Big Brother

i get it know i get it know it all makes sense. it was the worst time of my life in the ministry of love but it has changed me. i sit now here in the chestnut cafe. i understand big brother, I love him now. in the terrible underground cell, they beat you and tortured you until you screamed with pain, cried. they would wring your limbs out of sockets and sometimes injected needles in your arms. then, there was room 101. it hurts to even write that. the room where you must face your worst fears. for me, the unspeakable vermin, rats who ate off your face. and i knew only one way out was through my love, julia. and i screamed her name to save myself. i loved julia, LOVED. but i dont think so anymore. no more rebelling. O'brien has taught me the only way is big brother's way. now I only love big brother.