Poesía

January 22nd, 2018

Dear Diary,
Ashton keeps on asking me to go with him. He's persistent, I'll give him that. He never knows when to stop. Sometimes, that's a good thing. Not all the time, though.
I'm actually considering going. Ever since the new wheat started, I felt like something good might happen to me. It's very unlikely, but I'm allowed to have a little hope. Ashton told me that if I wanted something good, I'd have to unlock the lock I have on myself and step out. I had to actually go outside and try. It was hard though, when you've already lost 99% of the hope you had for yourself.
I think I might go next time. Yeah, he'll probably ask me again tomorrow. I'll say yes. I'll take a shower and wash my hair and eat a banana or something. Maybe I can actually smell good for once and my hair could fluff up like it used to when I was a kid. It sounds nice, but unrealistic. Maybe I could make it realistic tomorrow. I haven't felt warm water on myself in weeks, and I'm pretty sure that there's flies flying around me because of how shitty I smell.

Wish me luck,
Michael