Finally. They are allowing me to gather myself back up. The guards have been considerate and fed me a well balanced meal. My hair is growing back, as well as my process of thinking. They even slipped a box of cigarretes. "Victory Cigarretes" it read. My thoughts are becoming more clearer. I am accepting the rules of Ingsoc. My grammar is also becoming more rich in Newspeak. Yes. How easy it is to agree.
Oh no, what have I done. My blissful reverie of the Golden Country has brought attention to the guards. I must have screamed Julia's name. Either that or the usual thoughtcrime of Big Brother. Thump, thump, thump. My heart's rapid beating is corresponding with the tramping boots of the guards. I am probably going to Room 101, oh well. When O'brien comes, I cannot lie. I hate Big Brother.
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