But upon my birth, a cloud blocked out her place in the sun.
Our mother Susan had my sister when she was 17, having met our dad, Alan, at 15 and married him shortly before Louisa was born.
I think it’s fair to say my sister — eight years my senior — loathed me from the moment I was born, and bullied me relentlessly throughout our childhood. Cruel, frequently violent and resentful of my very existence, her bullying has left me damaged to the point that it will forever impinge on my happiness.
She has her own scars too and, like me, she still struggles with depression and feelings of inadequacy caused by the chasm that opened up when I arrived, and the terrible, pernicious rivalry that was actively encouraged and fuelled by our parents.
From the age of ten, she was expected to make my breakfast, prepare supper and look after me.
This continued throughout her teens, and when I started school, she had to take me there and pick me up later, too. What 14 year old wants her six-year-old little sister dragging around after her all the time?
They'd openly take sides in our fights, and discuss who was their favourite child and why. Then, after she left home, she'd come back broke, heart-broken, jobless or homeless thanks to her latest crisis.