My roommate and I have been friends since our freshman year of high school. We clicked immediately, most of this being due to how eerily similar we are—similar upbringings, hobbies, and interests.
Many people are encouraged to find things that make them unique, but how do you do that when the person you spend most of your time with is another version of yourself?
I love her to death, but she makes it hard to feel like I’m doing something new. Not that she goes out of her way to make me feel like that or anything.
 If I have a new poem, I want her to read, she has a new one she wants me to read. I have a photo that I’m editing and want her opinion on, she has a new photo she wants me to look at.
If I really like something I made though, am I too proud of it?
Don’t get me wrong, I really appreciate being able to have someone who gets it. Someone to bounce ideas off of. But when am I going to find my “something”? When will I finally feel like I’m creating by myself, and not in accordance with what she is also building?
It’s made me lose love for some of the things I once found peace in. I haven’t written a new poem in months, and while the reason for that is something I’m unsure of, it hurts my heart still. It’s not like she’s ruined these things for me. Not at all.
Before I met her, I was the only person in my friend group who took an interest in writing and poetry. English teachers would mention Shakespeare and kids would groan, but I sat there happy to listen. When we became friends though I finally had someone to share my passions and hobbies with.
Now I feel like I’m competing with her. Like I have to push so much harder to keep up with her when that’s not something I should have to worry about at all.
But these feelings don’t just leave when I try to will them away. Especially not when you live with those feelings every day. Literally.
We have the same major, so we take similar classes. And now the feeling of competition is academically driven, not just in our hobbies.
So how do I find my sense of self when there is that overlooming sense of unoriginality? I don’t. Or at least I don’t stress myself in trying to find it. As much as we have in common, AnnMarie and I have plenty that’s different.
Our writing styles, the types of photography we do, and what we consider fun when we go out. We aren’t carbon copies of each other. Just two friends who are as close as ever, because we knew how to bond.
It’s not a competition, it’s appreciation.