Family

I used to think that my family was normal. That in the fog of insanity, my family was a spot of clarity. We stayed together even when things looked down. We were happy, giving, disconnected from pain. But what is life without pain? What is love without pain? And most importantly, What is life without love? I may be seventeen, but I’m not naïve. I’m not responsible, I’m not careful, I’m insecure, but I’m not naïve. I cry; sometimes alone in bed, sometimes in front of everyone. I cry because I feel the pain. Is there anything more sacred?