Too Much Love

I have loved the idea of love since the day I was conceived. My mother has only loved my father, and my father has only ever loved my mother. My family has always been surrounded by love.

My older siblings are all married, and are still in the swooning stage of love with their partners. My siblings are now starting their own family, whom are in turn conceived from love.

But I, myself, am the youngest of seven siblings, I'm sixteen. I was never expected to be born, nor was I expected on the time of my birth and from then, to do anything.

Not like my older brothers who became doctors to take over the hospital my father owns. Nor like my sister who are stay home mothers who dote on their children.

I am me, and that's all i'll ever be. But in the end, is it so wrong to want more? I want to love, and be loved by that special someone, but from how I grew up, love is like a snake who wraps it's body around mind.

Love is a beautiful thing, but it's also suffocating.