The one person that always said he believed in me and that he loved me no matter what. But no, now he's saying he doesn't care about me, it's the hardest thing to hear from your grandad.
I can't handle the arguments or the pain. I'm worthless..

I want to write again.

I want my thoughts on paper.
I want to get upset when I mess up. When the ink gets smuged, and it gets my finger black. When I hear the crunch of crumbling the mistake and throwing it away, hearing it hit the bottom of the trash can.

I want to get it right.
I want to smile a small smile, barely at the coner of my lips. Why? Because I wrote something I was proud of.

I stopped writing, because my thoughts were depressing,...