The Brutality of Blood

“No one fights dirtier or more brutally than blood; only family knows its own weaknesses, the exact placement of the heart. The tragedy is that one can still live with the force of hatred, feel infuriated that once you are born to another, that kinship lasts through life and death, immutable, unchanging, no matter how great the misdeed or betrayal. Blood cannot be denied, and perhaps that’s why we fight tooth and claw, because we cannot—being only human—put asunder what God has joined together.” 

― Whitney Otto, How to Make an American Quilt

Sometimes it takes the superior words of others far more talented than me to convey something that would come out monstrously cruel or petty and childish, so I’ll let an expert like Whitney Otto speak to the complex bullshit that family doles out, especially around the holidays. One day, though, I’ll tell my own story. It’s not the one that everyone wants to hear, and it’s probably not the one they think they know, but it will be honest and brutal and true, which will only serve to infuriate certain people all the more. The truth does that.

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