My family is beautiful.

Sitting in the house watching endless hours of television and pointless days on Facebook is an insult to life. Life is what I'm suppose to be living, yet I am not. I am here. I am in a chair. White walls surround me and all I can think about is counting; counting the hours until a face other than Daniel Radcliffe or Alexis Bledel comes to greet me hello.

I draw imaginary things made of real things in this wonderful world to pass the time away. Pomegrantes, coral, and the Game of Perfection flow onto paper, although I wish I had them all in real life. I wish I had something.

I've read all the fairytales in m home all before sunrise. The pain in my jaw keeps me up sometimes, yet the rising Son is the true secret behind my awakening.

My family is magnificent. They bring my mexican gumbo and books and smiles. They set them all on my lap and I give them kisses on their cheeks in silent appreciation. I want to take them to a beach and put them in a bottle and ship them off somewhere else so another can know and realize love like they've never experienced before.

But until then and for now, they are God given, they are mine.

We toss candy at one another in fits of joy and humor. We drink chai tea and instant coffee and talk about how the day is horrible, but how some people are not. We lay stacked on top of eachother watching an infinate amount of free movies and DVD's because sometimes, the best thing to say is nothing at all.

My family is beautiful.

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