Other side

We cannot badmouth them because they’re family, we cannot mistreat them because they are family and we cannot place them second because they are family. We’re expected to treat family with love even though we pop bottles in escape of their presence; we endeavour to find a place filled with peace, a closet filled with happiness and care but we cannot expect that because they’ve already got our outfits on our beds.

How is it our comfort comes in a form of a friend and how is it that time flies when we’re at comfort? We’re seeking perfection in ourselves when it’s relatives who are concerned on the smell of our cologne.

It’s unfortunate that we have friends who treat us as if we were family and we have family who treat us as if we weren’t related; at times we picture ourselves on the other side, how unfortunate that we’ll be getting calls from family members who haven’t called in twenty years, seeking a second chance perhaps.

“He hasn’t called...”  “He changed on us, he probably thinks he’s better now”  “We were there for him”  “... he’s made it in life...”

We’re family, even though we’ve never shared a plate, a meal nor have we shared a decent conversation; all we share is blood...