I want to be a tattoo artist. I'm constantly drawing on myself, and on other people, making sketches in notebooks and corners of papers, inking my skin with my passion. I love the softness of skin against a pen, its a flawless moving curving canvas. Today i told my mom this. She said that if thats what I wanted to pack my bags and go live with my dad. Im not asking her to support my ambition, or even be ok with it. But she could have t least not made me feel like a waste of space, the child that turned out bad.