On choosing water

The difference between blood and water

lies not in the consistency, but in the

glorious truth that water comes with

a choice.

Blood binds me, ties me to

nothing

and to

everything.

But it binds me, nonetheless.

Blood comes with baggage, with history,

with future, and with family arguments,

most of which are held in my head.

Blood comes with love and with pain and with

laughter

and

tears

and strangers who once were more

until they decided that sometimes

blood just isn't thick enough.

Blood comes with a heavy responsibility

to remain loyal to what was in order

to maintain appearances because

it's just easier to lie to ourselves

with strained smiles for our public

and save the bitching for when

the appropriate backs

are turned.

Blood comes with a silence so loud

that we must laugh louder

to drown out the sound of

words left unspoken.

So I choose water when blood remains

the only tie.

Because sometimes, blood just isn't

thick enough.