As I heard the faithful click of the gun behind me I knew that it was all over and that, blissfully, I would finally be relieved of the heavy baggage my material body had become. There was nothing but belief, belief in Big Brother and in the Party. There was no individual, so what was the purpose of this body that for some reason I call my own. Why should I be this man where others are younger or older or female? What did all mean? But did any of it really matter?
Reliving the last year is a strain on the poor head, no longer my head, just one of the many in the Party. But what was the party except for hear of Big Brother. Again, there was no individual, only Big Brother. Of course, nothing could happen without the Party, but the lines between party and Big Brother were inconceivable. I can hear the bullet now, wizzing towards my body, allowing me to leave this infernal sack of flesh.
It must be the thought police, they are really behind this, and if I turned around I might even see the eyes of my murderer. But what does it matter, what is the difference between him and me? We are both part of Big Brother because nothing exists besides for Big Brother. Not even the thought police could escape the eventual fate.
Nothing
Nothing
Nothing
There is nothing outside of Big Brother - that must be it. The thought police are merely the hands of Big Brother. The Party is the arms of Big Brother. The telescreens are his eyes, watching all of us. But there is no us because we are him.
The bullet is very close now; I can almost feel it returning me to where I came from. In my remaining time I looked up at the big black eyes of Big Brother and finally understood. I love Big Brother as I love myself because I am Big Brother. And as the bullet tears into my flesh I am free of my mortal capsule and I can return from where I know I belong. We people of Oceania, we are Big Brother's heart. We are what keeps him alive, and there is nothing but him, nothing but us to make him.
I Love Big Brother.