Utopia

I could be executed for writing this. Hell, they'd probably throw me in prison just for catching me with a pen and paper. But I have to get this down... I know it's only a matter of time before they realize that I'm a free thinker... and then they'll make sure I never existed.
Ten years ago, the entire world changed. They had been building up to this point, and they were incredibly successful. I saw it coming and I tried my best to tell people that this isn't how we want to live. We don't want to be controlled... but they were already brainwashed.
The government showed their true colors. Libraries and theatres were torn down, artwork and historical artifacts were burned to ashes, and the world's most renowned musicians were gunned down like animals. Oh yea... the animals... you'd be lucky to even find a picture of one, let alone a real one.
Anyone caught with any sort of art, music, unorthodox clothing, stuffed animals, books, religious practice... anything that made someone individual... were considered criminals... and were severely punished. They... they took my children away when they were seen picking up a burnt teddy bear from a sewer grate... they won't even tell me what they've done with them.
Our homes are video and audio monitored. I don't know how I managed to find this blind spot, but I'm taking advantage of it. I don't even know who will find this or if anyone manages to read it before it's destroyed... but I'm desperate.
Our leader is known as the Protector, for he "protects" us from such dangers as emotions and free thoughts. He thinks for us, he feels for us, and he tells how to live our lives for "our own safety." We're forced to keep our televisions on from dawn til dusk to listen to the Provider's inspirational lectures. Then, as we sleep, he have headphones that feed our brains with binaural frequencies to ensure that we don't succumb to our "primitive behaviors."
I've found a way to block them, however. I take a shower before I go to bed, and when I get out to clean my ears with a cotton swab, I manage to very carefully and very discreetly leave the cotton in my ears. It takes two per ear to do the trick. But this combined with putting the headphones on backward keeps my mind open.
They say that there is a resistance in the undergrounds of New London, but this may just be a myth. I want to find them, but I don't know how to get passed the wall. I don't think I'll even live long enough to try and escape.
Individuality is a crime, independent thought is forbidden, speaking out is blasphemy... but it's our fault. We let this happen. All those decades being forced to fear voicing our opinions, falling into fads to prevent being an outcast, not standing up for our beliefs because we were afraid to suffer the cruelty of our peers... if we had just fought against them, this could've been avoided. But fear made us slave to the morons who made us think it was wrong to be honest and share our opinions, no matter how controversial they were.
The American Flag is now the official flag for every country in the world. The part that once was blue is now black, the fifty stars were replaced by one big star, the white stripes remain white, but the red ones are a dark grey. "Freedom" is no longer a word in the dictionary.
If anyone manages to read this, please... please come to your senses. They can't control us if they're outnumbered. I want to live my own life, I want to be able to tell someone if I don't like something, I want to be able to defend my thoughts and opinions without being prosecuted...
Everyone needs to stand up for what they believe in and not be afraid to rise above those idiots who dare to tell you to hold your tongue when speaking your mind. Fight them. FIGHT THEM.
They found me... I can hear them trying to knock down the locked door. I will fight. This pen will be my weapon. I don't know how long I'll last, but better to die fighting than live in this shit hole we call a world. I hope a sensible person finds this notebook.
Please... bring peace back to our lives... restore our world. Bring the Protector down.
Category:Diary/Journal
Category:Reality