Your heart is simply your home. It is your safe place. Family consists of the things living in that ticker; it consists of the things you hold close in those chambers.
‘You can choose your friends but not your family,’ I am told by my parent who has caused me the most harm alone... but with the force of the wind I push against those groans.
The roots of my family tree do not match past generations. The roots connect to my heart and mine only; the veins that decorate the walls of my home.
So I bid you goodnight now a stranger to me, for I am finally free to be with my true family — I am safe here with my created bloodline, living happily in this little heart of mine.
I beg you to remember that family is what you make it: a pet, a series of books, a painting that brings you a sense of calm... Remember that you can, and must, uproot yourself from the weakened soil surrounding you.