3rd Aug:
Dear Book
I am winston smith.
I am winston Fucking smith.
I am Hannah Solomon. So says my passport.
Since when have official papers determined who i am? Since 28th January 1992.
You who were borin with the sun above your shoulders, you turn me on, you turn me on. Save your poison.I feel sick. Don't leave me here, i'm scared to die. X
If i am to be stuck with these people for the rest of my life, i might as well kill myself now. I might as well, but then again, i've never been one for practicalities, now, have i? No, i haven't. Maybe i should do something extreme while i have my youth. Maybe i should break the law. More. Fucking blow up an airport. Fucking crash the stock market. Fucking hijack a london bus and drive it into Harrods. Shock the fucking world with a 15yr old girl white killing the upperclass fuckers. Imagine that. FUCKING IMAGINE IT. Hell it'd be great. I'd be noticed. Maybe a columbine style massacre. Fuckit. I don't care what i have to do. Maybe i'll become an alcoholic or a junkie. I don't know.Terrorism looks like more fun. Everone in the country would know my name. Hannah solomon. 15. Terrorist. Suicide bomber. Theist. Yeah. That'd be great. and I'd be dead and everyone'd be happy. Except those who died without reason. Y'know, i was going to throw myself off a mutistorey car park on tuesday. I actually congradulated myself on not doing it. in my head, i actually said Well done.I'm a fucking lunatic. Hahaha. Who'd have thought it, eh? I'm a bloody psychopath. A sociopath. Paranoid fucking superstitious weirdo. And y'know, my family doesn't like me. At the moment at least. Screw them. Y'know their problem is the DON'T GET IT. They don't understand what's going on in my head. I don't think they even care anymore. I'm not a part of their family. I'm WINSTON SMITH. I'm not fooled by the world. I may not show it, but i know EXACTLY what is going on, and one day they'll find out and try to intervene. They don't know that i won't let them indoctranate me. Fucking torture me. Let rip. Electrocute the life out of me, but i'll never believe what they say. But in the end, no matter how much i with that that'd be true, i'd end up just like everyone. Drinking my life away on Victory Gin.O'brien and Mr Charingdon are in the thought police. O'brien will make me wish i were DEAD.Charingdon will pretent to be a prole. Just an old idiot. But he's much smarter than that. There's a telescreen in the room. I'll get caught. Julia will betray me. the future is nothing. you can change the past. You can't change the future. You can try, but what happens is already decided.
I think i might be depressed.
I think i might die frustrated and sad and it fucking WON'T be beautiful. It won't be a graceful transition from life to death, it'll be falling from a building. Drowning. Burning. Anything. I might even grow old and have to sit around on a comfy chair waiting to die. We're all just sitting around waiting to die, really.
4th Aug
Feeling alright at the moment. Apparantly i was talking in my sleep last night. Mum said that i said "i'm going to kill you" I'm not entirely sure that i was actually asleep. I'm a little bit understimulated. Always bored. Always thinking. Thinking makes me unhappy. Over anaylising every situation. Imagining what might happen. Last night when i was thinking about death, it finally sunk in that i won't be around forever. I will die one day. And it gave me a rush. I'm not sure if it was fear or excitement. Maybe i'll die young. I'll never have to wory about getting a job or kids or marrying or anything like that. That'll be the day. I hope it's on the news. I hope it shocks the nation.
I am withnail. i am winston. I am everything. I am nothing.
went to a Miffy exhibition. Bought some badges. it was great. Went to Troon in the afternoon. We played "Crazy Golf". Made friends with Reece and Christopher. They were playing "Crazy Golf" too. We were all quite shitty at it. Brittany was better than me, but only slightly. No one understand. No one knows my plans. Why the dancing, shouting, why the shreiks of pain, why the lonely music, why the smell of burning autumn leaves. No one understands. No one knows my plans.
Apparantly, Christopher, the 12yr old called me sexy. Vaguely flattered. Mainly a bit unhappy that only some stupid 12yr old who plays "Crazy Golf" finds me sexy.
Sad sad sad sad. Why must i be sad? Went to cathlene's party. Me and Andrew had some alcohol. Not even lots, just one bottle of strongbow and a can of carlsberg. Carlsberg is rank. not very tasty. Now i'm tired. Might try to get some sleep soon. Mum is annoying me lots. She's such a fucking pain in the neck. Night x
5th Aug
It's only that my frown is upside down. Its upside down. No hangover, seeing as i had very little alchohol in the first place. I don't like very sad sack. i am withered hope. Saaad Saaack. I am sad sack. Down down down down. Waiting on Sketchy. Mr Sketchy Galore. Words in songs always have relavance. and that is what makes them so popular. Or maybe that's not true. Cigarettes and Chocolate milk. These are just a couple of my cravings. Everything it seems i like's a little bit stronger, a little bit thicker, a little bit harmful for me. I want to fall into a song. i want to not be a cliché. I want to be the perfecton that i dream of.
I saw a crow. it was beautiful and raggedy and scary. I need to stop seeing "signs" in things. That crow was not my soul. That crow was not my guardian. It was a crow. It was no more than a crow. It had its own soul. It is not a part of me. And now it is just a memory of mine. It might be dead by now. or it could be anywhere. I don't know. Look how long i got this idiot to talk about a crow. It was beautiful though. It was a terrifying spectacle of beauty. Such a criminal animal. A beautiful bird of death.I think that i should have a pet. I would like a dog. An Afghan Hound. A beautiful tall Dougal. I want something to look after. I want to smother it with my affections. I want something to love. I'm still far from happy. This is a lovely Book. If i am half the Death Eater that i should be, I will make it into a horcrux. I could be a great star, Still i'm far from happy. Have a nice day x.
Ok i'm back. I'm back. I'm back. I'm a fucking idiot. I hate being me. I know i'm an idiot. and some people are idiots to me. Tom and Jerry is NOT comedy gold. I'm tired. I remind myself of Jessica Argus. I remind myself of a fictional character from a webtoon that only the nerds and i watch. They Might Be Giants are bliss. Their songs are bliss. Withered Hope, i'm in love with you, want to live with you. Sad sack. I like this paper. It's interesting to write on. The pages are nice. I like the paterns. It's nice. Like a picture frame. Magic. Imagine if the manufacturers of this book could somehow find out what people are writing in it. They, if they were to find anything suspicious, could inform the police or MI5 or someone exciting like that. I was thinking earlier that i would like to become a police person or a superhero like Batman. not superman because he's crap.