September 2 1901
It was funny how a persons past could somehow creep into their future. How you could fight and fight to forget but somehow it always caught up with you. It had been three years since he had left home, leaving the life of a drunken escuse for father and the so called mother who claimed to love him. He had tried to start a new, selling papes on any street corner of Manhattan, working himself to the bone for a few lousy pennies. But he could only run for so long and now three days to the date of his departure it had all caught up to him. He only wished that he hadn't dragged her down with him.
