Sometimes I feel that this family is cursed, yeah, it is strange. From ever since I was young I have seen too much bickering. I saw the injustice that my own father was put through, I witnessed how domineering my mother was, I saw the constant silent war between my grandma, my grandfather, my mother, my aunties, my uncles and many other family members.
Then I was happy that the eight siblings were united, were happy as kids, were close but not too close. We grew up like normal siblings, quarrelling, fighting, and taking sides, sharing, loving, remembering and much more. However, as we grew older, cracks began to be develop, first it was just some imaginary cracks, and then it became deeper cracks until it is totally broken.
The childhood quarrelling now had built up to adulthood war. Everyone thinks they are prefect, everyone thinks that they have the power to rule, everyone knows too much of everyone else. We talk but we are no longer listening, we laugh but we are no longer laughing, we love but we are no longer feeling, we cry but we are no longer sharing.
Public display of affection is only for show. What could have possibly gone wrong? Is it the air that we breathe? Is it the blood that is no longer thicker than water? Is it the greed of being accepted by others? Is it simply the curse of fate that had taken us too far away from where we began? A humble beginning of two wonderful parents with eight siblings, a herd of goats, a plantation of vegetables, a green colored home with lots of chicken running around, and love to keep us warm.
I fear the curse is here to stay, I fear the break of my own family. Can there still be love?
Where do I begin?
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