March 8, 2012 Dear diary, this is just a reflection of my life. Last night, I thought that at the end of the tunnel...No one is waiting for you. You have no light to shine on you,and you can not explain it or even make gestures, just look back and see everything that in it's time made you happy, that in my case there is nothing in my life that is happy. Happy memories were taken by my father when he left that day. You try to grasp it with all your might those moments but the tips of your fingers slip away and you end up falling and falling, you never find the end of the hole and sometimes you think that you can no longer touch the bottom...That already all the blows and wounds have visited your whole body. It does not hurt anymore you know the salty taste of tears and the hemorrhages no longer heal with bandages, only let them dry with air, they heal in false and with any word or action they open deeper than ever. Rest in peace the adolescence of this boy who had to grow ahead of time. But well if something is knew is that not everything is lost and even the poorest poor man has his guardian angel. Zhola...in these months I have realized that I am more than a dirty boy. I have realized that I am intelligent, creative, a little romantic and what surprises me is that my heart beats again, Zhola, you are my only thought, I just ask to be correspond it .
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* * * ZH O L A
"When will you show me what you write Gary?"
Said Zhola resting her face on her hand.
"Never, if you keep calling me Gary!"
Grayson said with a mockery face
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