I love my family. Well, just my mom's side of it. as for my dad's side, well... except for an uncle or 2, i want to kill them.
as for my relationships with my dad, i'll have to say that i hate him. end of story. looking back, i start to cry. (no really, i am *shit what am i, an emo?*)
ever since i was born, he never spent time with me, always working, and working and working. guess for what? to help his sisters who are "poor", when they were actually living in villas, based on his mom's idea.
then there was my cousin, who was like a fucking leech. tl;dr version: he treated him like he was his son, with me and my brother being next door neighbors.
it even got worse as i hit 16; i had performed Umrah in Ramadan (which is something really extraordinary for someone my age), i was in high school (we only have 2 years of them in Jordan), and i was listening to metal, and my dad wanted me to spend more time with him. great, after 16 years of having me, now does he realize that he has two sons of his own,
even though my dad works as a Respiratory Therapist in KSA, we still live in -to quote Bart- "a crapshack that's going to hell." in the middle of fucking nowhere, with my grandma (dad's side) as a fucking next door neighbor. and i have to visit her 2 times a day, which i don't do. she's the head of the snake that's caused my life to become a living hell.
my small family consists of me my bro, and my mom. i don't know my dad, tbh.