One time I was discussing the novel 1984 with some people. (Granted I have discussed this book more than once. In fact I spent weeks on it in school but this was at Cardinal Hill. I was still a lifeguard and we were in the office. I was in one of the low chairs. My memory is fucking flawless.) And we were discussing the end of the story; the part after Winston buckles and lives his life in shame and the very last page, the very last paragraph where everything falls into place.
Well this one comrade of mine, she said that she always thought that Winston, in his last second of life, might have still truly hated Big Brother. When I heard that I was blown away. Because that is so obviously not the case. I mean that's a fucking pipe dream. Orwell wrote in black and fucking white that he loved Big Brother.
And yet... Well as plainly wrong as that idea is I love it. I love the idea that no matter what, we stay true to who we are. That deep down inside, even after we have done terrible things and betrayed the people and ideals we thought we never would we still can hold them close to our hearts.
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