Broken.
It all started with a broken thing. A thing called family. I don't know where to start, really. Because the only thing I can recall is when I was 5 year-old. So, I think I should start there.
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I grew up having a broken family. It is because my parents are cousins. Yea, first cousin to be honest. They have the same surnames. Their father are siblings. (sigh)
They knew it. I know. But they chose to commit mistakes. Sake of love? Maybe. I think so.
But then, as I told you, I grew up having a broken family. So yea, they didn't end up together. Because everyone don't want it. It's a mistake. It's a sin. Hindi tama. Sa mata ng tao. At sa mata ng Diyos.
Before they live separately, they have me. And her--my sibling.
And this?
Is how my story began.
A/N:
Ready yourself.
