Oceania,
I am grateful to have the opportunity to write for you again. With Hate Week arriving soon, I'm sure many of you are quite excited. I've grown rather familiar with the sight of flaming effigies that bear my resemblance. I'd rather live forever in your minds as a hated figure than fade away with my message lost to time.
A rocket bomb fell on my street today. They've been falling more frequently this month. I normally try to stay out of sight, but I couldn't help myself after I heard it fall. You see, there's a prole family I know, and they have a daughter who loves to play in the streets. She's only four years old. I heard its terrible sound and ran outside to see if she was alright. I found her in the street. She was so pale, I thought the worst had happened. She had broken her arm when she fell, and the sight of her disfigured bone made me nauseous, but at least she is alright.
I suppose that, in sharing this, I hope to show you that I am not the evil figure B.B. makes me out to be. Believe me, I know how difficult it can be to hear and try to accept a truth that is the opposite of what you've been told your entire life. I've dealt with navigating my own thoughtcrimes and doublethinks. All I ask is that you take a minute and consider all you've heard me say. You might agree more than you let yourself recognize.
I'll leave you with an old picture I found. Bluebells have always been my favorite. Did you know they are known for being very fragile, yet incredibly resilient? It almost reminds me of us.
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