The first people to break your heart are not supposed to be your parents. They're suppose to love you. They're suppose to be the people who protect you from the world and all of the bad things that it offers. It makes sense in a way why they couldn't love me. I am the bastard child they had entirely too young. How could they love me with all of the broken and all of the damage. But her? She's perfect. How could anyone not want her.