Family. What a whirlwind of emotions and thoughts that run around my heart and brain when I hear that word. Since I could remember, the term "family" meant protection, love, friendship and blood. Superior to everyone, indestructible by no-one. Meanings of words that you define in your head compared to the meanings of those same words that life defines for you are quite the opposite.
I feel like I've lived my family life through trailers, teasers and little flashes of what could of been. I feel like we're all on a timer with people in life, and once that timer is up, those people are gone; leaving you with memories that are impossible to wipe. Those memories anger you, they kill you inside, eventually making you hate the ones that made you feel like that, you hate yourself for letting them get that version out of you, you hate them for so many more deeper reasons than what they did to just you. You hate them for what they did to your loved ones. Most importantly, you hate them for making you hate them.
Sometimes, it's not you, sometimes it's them. Sometimes our families are our biggest enemies and often even rivals. Have you noticed, that the most trivial things can get stretched to widths that you never imagined them to reach? It seems planned, premeditated and too tactical for certain things to just "happen"
It's those same thoughts that keep you up at night, thinking to yourself "how can something like this, blow up into that?"
Well, the truth is; if someone wants it to go that far, they will allow it to go that far. Being the daughter of the family, you are pressured to be the more empathetic one, the understanding and forgiving one, you feel this sense of responsibility to deal with everyones mistakes. You get to a point where you realise, it's not you. You're dealing with their reality. They are happy with the way things are, and they are content with their fabricated version of events.
Leave them to it.
