Dear Diary.

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Dear Diary,

I’ve lived on this here ranch for many years now, and as a coloured man, I feel my life is nothing but the lowest of all. A white man’s loneliness and hardship is nothing compared to a black man’s isolation. I live here, all alone in my own room. The other men say that it’s good to have your own room, where there ain’t nobody else to disturb your own privacy. But, it’s not like that. There ain’t nothing good about it at all. A lonely life is what I live. By my own self, in my own bunk, with no one. I’m kept away from all the other men on this ranch, because of the prejudice against my coloured people. I have complained too many times about this injustice, but nobody would listen to the nigger speak.

But, something funny happened today. Everything was the same as it always is on a Saturday evening. The white fellas out to town, leaving everything else silent, except the quiet echo of the horses, moving about restlessly. As usual, my crippled back, injured from that darn horse, began to throb with pain once again, so I took out my liniment and slowly began to massage the ache with my hands. My mind wandered, and wondered about the reasons I have for staying here. I have many. I can’t leave this place, even though it is the one place where I am always unhappy. It’s just the fact that I’m a black man, I suppose. I haven’t got any choices. It’s either here or nowhere.

It was silent as hell. I gazed up from my thoughts and realised Lennie, the new guy was standing in my doorway. I heard things like he was a big fella and everything but by god! That guy is huge. I just thought that there must have been something wrong with his head. How dare he, a white man, who should know about a black man’s privacy, should come and invade my territory? I’m not like them other white men. Seeing as I ain’t allowed in their bunk house, well, why should they be allowed in mine?

He stood there, smiling with his great mouth. I told him that he shouldn’t be in here, still stunned at his daring. He smiled even more at that. Then he replied, only talking about his darn pups. But I realised, as the conversation grew on, that the man didn’t understand about prejudice and all those things. I began to feel at ease and even liked his company. Of course I did, anyways. There can’t be any man on earth who likes being on his own all the time.

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We talked and we talked. And I surprised even myself when I told him about my past, when I was a boy. When my old man had his own chicken ranch and the white kids would come and play. I used to play with them sometimes too, my old man didn’t like that but I didn’t find out why ‘til I was older. Wish I could go back to them days. It was nice talkin’ to the big fella though. Normally, If I say something, why it’s just a nigger saying it. When he next spoke, I realised the ...

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