Blood is thicker than water, but you don't really drink blood.

Family.
One word. Five letters. It can mean so much and so little. So many connotations, to just myself, let alone all the different views that must be present in the world.
Brothers, sisters, aunties, uncles, grandparents, step-siblings, step-mothers, step-fathers, then, more importantly(?) mums and dads.
I don't know how people can lose contact with parents purposefully. They're so there, so in your face that it's impossible to imagine life without them. I suppose I've got a very small family comparably, and I still live at home, but even to imagine life without my father it's hard. That's me talking now, when I'm not even living with him, and even after I went through depression, and came close to suicide because of his actions. I still love him, admire him, and respect him. He is the one person closest in personality to me in this world, and that may be the reason I found myself unable to tear our bond. I can fucking hate him sometimes, but there is not one moment in my life I have lost respect for him.
Everyone in the family I live with gets a 'love you' each day, and without that I don't think some of us would get by. Being emotionally separate from family is something I can't understand. I only have a few relatives though; they're my brother, my sister, my mother, and my father, and then I have one great aunt in England, who I've met a total of two times. So you can imagine, the family I have... we're pretty close knit.
But that does not mean we don't argue. The other day... two nights ago, actually, I was on the phone to my boyfriend, and it was the night before the last day of school. (Which yes, means that today is a holiday. I am very much looking forward to the rest of this holidays, though today has constisted of eating Easter eggs, Mi Goreng, and cereal, while lounging around watching Harry Potter) But anyway, it was getting late, I was meant to be off the phone at around 10:45, but it was around half an hour to an hour later, and I was in the family room. My brother came out to get a glass of water or something, and saw I was still on the phone. His immediate reaction? To go to the power switch, and flick it off. The phone disconnected. In the middle of the fucking conversation.
I came so close to attacking him, I figure I have amazing self control. But not so amazing as to stop what I did next. I went to my room, led in my bed and attempted to steam off my anger for a little while. It didn't work. I picked up my phone and sent him a text. "My brother is a faggot douche fuckwit pussy. Hope you appreciate it. Love you. xx" (Grammar isn't my strong point in texts at near-midnight.) I figured locking my door would be a good idea, and it was; he came to my door, appeared to attack it, from the sound, then informed me he was telling mum. So today is my second day of being banned from the phone.
A trivial thing to get worked up about, but I feel a lot calmer than I did before any of it happened; it was good to let off a little steam I gather.
I do slightly regret it though.
Everyone has a different opinion though.
That's what blogs are for.
Thanks for reading.
Brittany.