Family love is a specific genre. It's a plate of food you didn't ask for, followed by a life critique you also didn't ask for. It's someone worrying about you in a way that sounds suspiciously like roasting. It's devotion dressed as "I'm just saying." That mix—tenderness and comedy, loyalty and chaos—shows up in my writing a lot. Because it's real. Because it's funny. Because it's sometimes the thing that makes you laugh and ache at the exact same time.
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