Sunday lunch at the family house always ends with fists and broken bones, sad eyes and sore jaws, but we always go back, always will.

There's different forms of love and abuse is one of them. Couldn't understand this in the beginning but when dad would start drinking and mom would start screaming my hands would shake and this would **** him off so I'd run and try pull my brother from the house but he'd resist, 'cause he was convinced that that's what love looks like.

There's different forms of abuse and love is one of them. You're going to love someone and end up leaving, be it even only at death. Staying leads to leaving but you're still going to try and make someone else's smile your home 'cause you're convinced that that's what love looks like.

Every relationship starts with a new face and ends with a broken heart. Love leads to loss but we always go back, always will.