Blood is Thicker than Water

“Fine, whatever, you just keep playing horn, I give up on you and your school. You aren’t worth it anymore.” That was what my father had told me one night when I had yet again proved myself a failure to him. That moment was when I knew that the idea of blood being thicker than water was true. Yet not in the way that modern society has contorted those words into the opposite meaning of the original phrase. I believe that the blood of the coven is thicker than the water of the womb, that the bonds between true friends is closer than the connection between two tied by kinship could ever be. There are thousands of memories I could write about to show that this train of thought has been in my mind for years upon years of my life, but there’s no real need for that. It goes without saying that at 16 years of age, I’ve already had those nights. The ones after weeks of ignoring emotions and responsibility, where everything wrong in life comes into a paralyzing crescendo of chaos and pain. At this point in time, I’ve been alone with myself and my thoughts, the words so viciously thrown at me by my parents swirling in my mind, and it’s absolutely awful. I recognize now that my family does nothing for me on those nights, nothing but induce them. I now know that the only people that are still willing to fight for me are those that I have connected with on my own, the incredible people in my life that I am so utterly privileged to be able to call them my friends. They are the ones that have saved me on those awful horrendous nights that I know I shouldn’t have experienced, especially before the point where I could be able to move out. I’ve read hundreds of papers about how my philosophy is wrong, that family is the most important thing in life and those who fail to realize that are destined for misery, but I can’t bring myself to believe that I have the obligation to buy in to the ideology that family is better. There is little to no evidence defending that