My family, with the exception of my sister, will never support my work. I get it now. I give up, and I won't try anymore... I was laying everything out in the barrel in the back yard to burn the trash for mom and dad, when what do I find? A short story I wrote and gave them ripped to shreds and crumbled into little balls... I also found a couple copies of the 9/11 poem I did this year that mom practically begged me for. I realize that they are just little pieces of paper to them, but I needed them back... ink is expensive and I can't just print things off whenever I want.