So it’s happened again. I’ve been on the verge of throwing it all away and handing in the towel. Then some stupid, otherwise meaningless thing happened. Now I’ve changed my mind.

You know, it’s a rare occasion for me to like my extended family. Actually, I don’t really like any of them. If it weren’t for the blood relation, they would be those people who you make faces about when you hear them speak. Or the person who comes in to shop at the place you work and you cringe because they’re just such rude, overbearing people. Yes, that’s my family. Not because they tease me, or because they’re embarrassing. It’s because quite honestly, they’re absolutely awful people. But not my dad’s side. Not my father’s sister and her husband (and to be fair, their children). I love them. Love them in a way that makes it sound unconditional. Not because I have to, but because I want to.

I’m forced to see my family, obviously. Rarely do I speak to any of them but I’d willingly spend time with these people. They’re wonderful. Better yet, they’re REAL.

I overheard my aunt and her mother-in-law talking about me in the kitchen after dinner. The words were… embarrassingly sweet.

Sometimes, when I lose faith in the world, I learn that loving people is worth all the trouble.