Dear Twin Who is Nothing Like Me,
When people hear I have a twin sister, they are quick to get excited. Visions of Mary-Kate and Ashley in matching outfits flash before their eyes. Like Mary-Kate and Ashley, people think you can’t have one of us without the other. I often see the twinkle in their eyes as they picture another girl walking this planet who looks just like me, followed by the confusion of why we aren’t attached at the hip. Then comes the interrogation, which after 21 years, is frankly starting to piss me off. It’s usually a variation of the normal list of questions, which I wish I could answer the way I want to through the whole painful ordeal. I am sure you are used to hearing it.
“OMG you have a twin sister? Does she look like you?”
“No, we are fraternal.” This is where I explain to the dumbfounded inquirer that this means we don’t look alike, because most people don’t understand that term at all, or they think it means I have a twin brother. And if they happened to see us side by side, they probably wouldn’t even think we share any genes at all.
“Who is older?”
“Me. 45 seconds. C-section. It was ugly.” Hey, they asked. I spare them the full story that mom likes to share, with all the gory details and the part about me being blue.
“Do you get along?”
“It’s complicated.” Ha-ha if only they knew. I could show them the scars I have from your fingernails but I refrain.
“Why doesn’t she go to UMass?”
“She didn’t want to.” WE DON’T HAVE TO DO ALL THE SAME THINGS! IT IS POSSIBLE TO SHARE A WOMB AND HAVE SEPARATE IDENTITIES, DON’T THEY GET IT?!
Smile fakely. End convo.
I know it’s not their fault. People have a natural curiosity about twins that has been instilled on them by the media. And honestly, the whole “twins must do everything as a unit” stigma followed us for most of the beginning of our lives. But following incidents like this, I am always left with a twinge when it comes to you, my twin.
Our names say it all, really. You got the eccentric and funky name, and I got the basic/common one. And let’s face it, we never really looked alike. Despite Mom’s attempts to dress us in matching turtlenecks, jumpers, and light-up sneakers, with our matching block-bang haircuts and long brown hair, we were destined to be different. While I worshipped N*Sync and longed for the newest clothes at the mainstream stores in the mall, you were listening to Avril Lavigne and experimenting with eyeliner and arm socks. While I was on the soccer field four days a week, you were practicing your floor routine at gymnastics. While you were painting and drawing in AP art classes in high school, I was running varsity track and cross country. While I was looking at colleges and following my dream of being a scientist, you were touring different art schools. Yet we shared a birthday, a bedroom, and to everyone’s utter dismay, a car. When I think of growing up with you, I picture two people attached by a rubber band running in opposite directions.
Sometimes I feel like if you and I were not twins, we would be awesome sisters. However, the pressure to be different comes from a world that is consistently trying to make us the same, a pressure that only comes with being born a twin. One would think that being the same age relieves the competition between a younger and older sibling, but that is not the case. Maybe if we weren’t twins, we could respect each other as separate individuals with different aspirations and goals. Maybe we wouldn’t feel so inclined to compete to stand out. To our extended family, who for so long have seen us as “the girls,” this has been hard to realize. Mom and Dad have been huge players in countering this phenomenon. They both gave us plentiful opportunities growing up to be our own individuals, with our own hopes and dreams and interests. Our family now sees that too, but it’s the rest of the world that has made it hard.
I have never expressed this, but sometimes I get to thinking that our sisterhood has suffered from our twin-ness. When it comes to getting close, it’s not easy. Our relationship is a glass menagerie, and the rest of the world is a baseball bat. You’re commuting to school from home, I have been away for almost three years. I like relaxing music with good instrumentals; you have no reservations about blasting scream-o as we drive by our neighbor’s house. We never see eye to eye on much, and almost anything can lead to a knock down drag out argument. You think I’m a selfish stuck-up bitch and I think you’re a mean and ignorant brat. Take that Mary-Kate and Ashley.
I know you resent me in so many ways, and I carry that with me too. I can’t blame you, really. We are doing things very differently. Sometimes I think you are just afraid. Afraid of not having an identity, and just having your whole self be mixed in with mine. And I have never had to worry much about that, because you have done all the work for me, and I thank you for that. But you know what I’m afraid of? I’m afraid of being born with a twin, and letting it go to waste. I’m afraid that this need to be different is going to take my twin away. I’m afraid that we will always be twins, without ever being able to be sisters. Everyone says we will grow out of it but we are 21 and not even able to share a living space without one of us losing it on the other. I am afraid of my children not being close with their auntie. I am afraid that you won’t be my maid of honor because we will get in a huge fight planning my wedding and I will regret it for the rest of my life. I am afraid that you won’t one day be by my side when we are old Betties, rocking side by side and looking back on our lives. Despite of all the annoying stereotypes of twins, these are a few I hope come true for us.
So twin, if you are reading this, I want you to know I am sorry. I’m sorry for all the times you were angry at me, for reasons I could control or not. And I want you to know that I’m not angry anymore. And I also want you to know that you are really scary when you are angry, despite me hiding my fear and trying to find my own set of nasty words to throw in your face and I wish we didn’t fight like that. And just because I don’t like tattoos doesn’t mean I think of you any less for getting them. I think they’re really cool. I wish that I was as brave as you to try new things like dying your hair all the time and wearing new trends that I couldn’t ever make work. Just because I am at school and you are at home going to school doesn’t make me feel superior, either. By the time you move out and go after a job, I will probably be moving back in with some student debt to work off. I also want you to know how much I miss you. I want you to want to pick up the phone when I call. I want you to care about what is happening with me. I want to know how you are doing, what you are up to, if you are happy. And I want you to know I won’t judge you for anything you tell me.
Also, stop rolling your eyes right now. I mean what I am saying and I am not being a sap. Just because you have eerily strong controls over your emotions doesn’t make mine any less real. So maybe take this time to re-read the above paragraph again.
I am not sure how much this will mean to you, but I mean every word. I want you to know I see you. I see you as who you are, separate of me. But you are still my twin, and still a part of who I am, and it is time we see the positive in that. I want to start being sisters again, enough of the fighting. Let’s embrace our differences, and forget what the world wants. I just want my sister back.
Love,
Your Twin Sister