Day 15

I dreamt, of my mother... My mother, my sister... Chocolates... Selfishness... Raids... Yelling... Arguments... Nagging... Food... so much food... my thought-crime of act, desperation, took over my youth: making me take my sister's food, my mother's food... Making them starve... I was not only "the boy"... I was "the monster". Able to take my sister's chocolate, when I already got 3/4.... What was wrong with me? Not listening to my mother... Such a rebel. They had disappeared... Where did they go? Did they really die? Did they get sent to a labor camp? This is madness... I cannot remember... Them being gone all the time at the house, was becoming too common... What have I done? Why has my memory failed me? The proles are human beings... I am not human... We are not human. What I did... did not matter... What I felt, did. Julia says the Party can change my words, but cannot change my thoughts, thought-crimes... Entitled to my opinions. The Ministry of Love, they could have everything there, drugs, tortures... Dreams are forever.