Saturday, May 12, 2:58 AM


Nobody talks about Eugene Malone anymore. Once upon a time, he was the most feared and revered criminal known in this city. Practically the leader of the local mafia. A person with enough connections to make him legally invulnerable. Possibly one of the most dangerous people in the state. But ever since his disappearance a few weeks ago, Malone has left the public’s eye. He’s being forgotten. I don’t like that.

As despicable and cruel as the man was, he can’t be allowed to be forgotten. History repeats itself, after all. To forget is to allow that cycle to go on unhindered. Eugene Malone does not deserve a successor. To make sure that never happens, he must be remembered. He must have a legacy. So now it’s my responsibility to make sure people don’t forget him. What a cruel twist of fate.

Things have been calm for me recently, all things considered. The depression comes and goes, but for the most part I think I finally have it under control. I suppose I have this journal to thank for that. Not that I’ve even used it much recently, but knowing it’s there helps. I no longer need to keep these feelings to myself; I can share them in this journal… which I keep to myself. Okay, so things aren’t perfect. But it’s certainly better than nothing. The days go by, one by one. Sometimes they’re good days, and sometimes they’re bad days. That’s just life, and I’m finally starting to see it.

But still, there’s that feeling of guilt that I don’t think will ever go away. And maybe that’s even a good thing. Maybe that’s just normal. Plenty of people feel guilty about something or other and they all get on just fine, right? So it’s pointless to worry about it.

But other than all that… Life is just dull these days. There’s an apparent emptiness in everything that happens now. Maybe it was always there, but I was too naïve to notice it until now. Every day is the same routine. Wake up. Get ready for work. Work. Get ready for sleep. Sleep. And repeat forever. Once in a while weekends are thrown into the mix, like a halfhearted attempt to keep things interesting. But I see through that ruse. Weekends are no different from the rest at their base. Just slightly more bearable because they give you more time to sleep.

Earlier tonight I went bowling with a few people from the office. At their insistence, of course. I’ve never been particularly fond of bowling. Not the worst sport in the world, but certainly not the best. Bah, excuses. I’m just not very good at bowling, end of story. But I went anyway, and I managed to convince myself for a short time that I was actually having a small bit of fun while my coworkers all ran laps around my own low score. In retrospect I’d say the experience was worth having even if only for the brief change of pace it brought, but at the time of course I mostly hated it. It’s frustrating, not being good at something. Even something as trivial as aiming and throwing a heavy ball down a sixty foot lane.

After the game we all parted ways. They went off as a group to the bar, and I went walking home. The bowling alley is close enough to my house that I preferred it. It’s been a while since I just took a long walk outside at night. I got lost in thought. Almost walked down the wrong streets a few times. Thinking about how things have been. Where things are going. I couldn’t help but keep assuming the worst. Eventually it will happen; it’s inevitable. Frustrating. For a moment I lost control. I had to let out all my impotent rage. I kicked into a car’s door. The impact echoed. I looked around. The street was quiet, empty. No one around to see. I kept walking.

I reminded myself that there’s no need to react so violently to what I’ve known all along. No regrets. Ever. I took a deep breath and sighed. I felt as if a weight had finally been lifted. As if, in that split second, I had finally accepted myself along with what was to come. No matter what I do about anything, it’ll happen when it happens.

It is now 3:43 AM, Saturday, May 12, and I feel like I can finally stop running.