Dear Diary,
I sit at the table drinking vile gin and reflecting on the events of the day. I am emersed in a project at the Ministry that consists of rewriting one of Big Brother's Orders of the Day. All was going well when I stood for the Two Minutes Hate. It was then that I noticed the dark haired girl standing behind me. A coincidence? I think not. A feeling of fear and hatred welled up inside me, yet was hard to sustain given her lovely features. Oh well, I must not think of these things. Then there was lunch break with Comrade Syme, who spoke more about the uselessness of OldSpeak. I am sure he will be vaporized one day, along with many others. It is a scarry thought, vaportization. I find myself thinking about it far too often, often enough to worry about Thought Crime. How does one hide something so feirce? My hatred and frustration towards the Party will surely be discovered. Next I came home and assisted Mrs. Parsons with her heater. That damn woman's things are always breaking! However, I cannot help but feel sorry for her with those two awful children and Tom. I regret to say that I am happy Katharine never concieved.
