Untitled: Diary of Isaac and The End

(Last ‘chapter’ of my story.)

 

TAKEN FROM THE PERSONAL JOURNAL OF ISAAC YOUNG

DATED 31 DECEMBER 2008

Roberts had ended our interview prematurely, but it was clear that we were done. Roberts had shifted. His entire body language. Honestly, I didn't understand most of it. He seemed to be talking nonsense, I don't know how much of it was real and how much was his ramblings. The man is a convict, for chrissakes.

He seemed so confident, though. Confident in what he was saying, confident in what he believed was true. Sometimes I wish I could say the same about me. I smoke too many cigarettes, I have far too few romantic entanglements, and shit, I don't know what I'm doing in my life other than this goddamn job. But I keep going anyway, maybe that's my destiny. Die alone with my microphone. Fitting.

The guards had escorted me out of the building. It was dark by then. I got into a taxi back to my hotel, and that's where I am now. Nothing special happened, no ghosts or hallucinations or any of that shit. I don't know why I was expecting that, exactly... just something about Roberts that got me a bit jumpy.

You know, tomorrow is sounding like a good day. Maybe I'll get a new job somewhere, get a better jacket, go to a high-class bar and find an attractive girl with not too many Type 3s to turn me off. That's what normal people do, right? Look for the average or something. Funny, it's what makes us unique that keeps us away from what we really want. We want to stand out, but we know that standing out is most often standing alone.

What's better, though? Being unique and alone or mediocre and with company? God, I don't know. I'm no philosopher. I just want a nice bed and a woman next to me. Fuck, even a man next to me. There's enough clubs in this town for me to find one of either. It's just company that we all crave, company we strive for. I'll just think about that tomorrow.

 

 

TAKEN FROM THE JAMES COUNTY COURIER

SECTION D5, OBITUARIES

2 JANUARY 2009

Isaac Alexander Young, a reporter from San Francisco, California, was found dead in his hotel room yesterday. He was found in his bed, and it is assumed he died in the vicinity of 10:00 AM on Thursday. The death is so far seen to be of natural causes. He had no immediate or extended family to notify. A memorial service is to be held in Agate Hall, San Francisco, at noon on Sunday. The memorial is being held by his former employers at the Tribune National.

 

END OF RECORDS

 

(Licensed Under the GNU GPL3.0, 2010, Dante Douglas)