struggling to touch

Identical twins are born from one cell. One, single cell.

Then it splits along one jagged edge and never joins back together.

What else can I say? We look alike, we talk alike, sometimes, we even think alike. But we're two different people struggling to be one. Struggling to rejoin along that jagged edge, fit right into the holes we've left in one another by splitting in that indefinably defining moment. She's vivacious, so I have to be dull, she's beautiful, so I fade into the background, she's popular, so I have to struggle to find my place. I read, she talks. I think, she does. We balance so we can fit together again.

So, to the world, we look alike, we talk alike, sometimes, we even think alike. We struggle to fit, and they only see the touching arcing of our selves when we succeed.

And sometimes I really hate being her twin.