Family.
I've always wondered what it actually is.
People with whom you share blood relations. People you're obligated to love. People who are obligated to love you back.
I've come to the realization, that however you define family, it will always be meaningless to me. Because what's there to love about: the parents who are constantly breathing down your neck, the annoying siblings who will forever be a pain, or that baby who just became your new alarm around the devil's hour.
Who wishes to have that around?
I might not have extended family members but we've hosted family gatherings at the church.
Seeing my peers suffer through hearing. "You've grown," every time they meet an adult, makes me glad that I never had one.
What's even more confusing is why they believe unity exists at all. As if you could grasp it and force it into the family.
On the surface it appeared that way, but within I could tell they were hiding a tension that would have everyone talking if it snapped.
Unity is a non-existent concept in my world, because of this fact.
Despite this, why do they still hold on to it?
To me it's just tedious, and I hate tedious actions, so I chose to stay silence.
I think it would be for the best if we all chose to do the same.
I mean what can I do about it?
Broken things don't fix themselves.
I'd rather avoid trying, than get involved.
The only time I get involved is when it benefits me. That's what I call attachment.
My mother vanished when I was younger, and weirdly, I feel compelled to move and find out more; about her, and my family.
Hmmmm... Funny. I find myself fixated on her, sometimes lost in thought, thinking about what it feels like to have a mother.
I wonder... is that what love feels like, or is it just curiosity?
What if the rest of them suddenly vanished one day, just like her.
What then, would I care?