Family

Have you ever noticed that the people who have the right to hate you the most are the ones who love you? Take moms for example. I know that mine has put up with way more than her share of moods, fits, tears, and all those insane moments when I really have no idea why I did something, I just did.

It's kind of backwards, but intimacy seems to expose the worst in me, not the best. Yet it is only those with whom I consider myself exposed to (as in the people who have seen me scream at roaches, inanimate objects, and my younger siblings *some pictured*) that I can rely on for love no matter what I think or do.

Maybe the definition of "family" should have an addendum: "those who know you are a jerk, and put up with you anyways".