"The Grandma" pointed to my obsession.

I pointed to it being my only escape from hopelessness.

"She" then said I was afraid to turn it off. (the computer) Because then I couldn't talk to anyone.

As if I shouldn't be allowed to exist, almost.

If you know it's bad, it's probably bad. IF you can't tell it's bad, it's worse.

I refuse to go into complete isolation, although I doubt my little bits of writing do much good for anyone besides myself. If you are under siege, you throw bottles filled with notes over the wall, even if only the enemy catches them.

I raised my voice when I told "grandma" that I was right handed at the computer. dd. My right hand is sometimes considerably stornger.

I write because I must.