They teach us that blood is thicker than water.
They say it like a rule.
Like a warning.
Like a leash.
But they never tell you the full saying:
“The blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb.”
Meaning the bonds you choose
can be stronger than the ones you inherit.
Funny how that part always gets left out.
Because if we knew that,
we might stop tolerating emotional starvation in the name of family.
We might stop confusing access with entitlement.
We might stop staying loyal to people who don’t know how to love us back.
I believed the shortened version.
So I gave up friendships.
Good ones.
Soft ones.
The kind that felt safe before I knew what safety was supposed to feel like.
I chose obligation over alignment.
Proximity over peace.
History over honesty.
And blood didn’t reward that loyalty.
It didn’t suddenly become gentle.
It didn’t suddenly choose me back.
It just taught me how easy it is to abandon yourself while calling it maturity.
Meanwhile, my friends were watering me.
Holding space.
Seeing me without expectation.
Choosing me without guilt attached.
So yes — I regret giving them up.
Because they weren’t distractions.
They were chosen family before I had language for it.
Now I move different.
I don’t romanticize shared DNA.
I don’t worship struggle bonds.
I don’t stay where I have to shrink to be tolerated.
I choose mutual.
I choose warmth.
I choose people who don’t make love feel like labor.
If that makes me disloyal to dysfunction,
I’m okay with that.
