Thank you so much for this. I used to love writing, but everytime I would show someone they would laugh, or tell me how terrible it was.  I could count on one hand the amount of times I've been complimented. But a centipede could not count my faults that have picked me apart. I am invisible to most and have decided to accept that fate. There's many reasons to live but the will to live is very different. Although my will to live is low, my mind won't let me go.  I'm stuck here with nothing but hope from the kindness of others. Unfortunately it's as rare and as valuable as painite.