When people first find out that I am a twin, their questions begin to flow. Unrestricted, ludicrous, ye somehow amusing questions: “Can you read each other’s minds?” “Do you think the same things?” “Has her boyfriend ever tried to kiss you thinking you were her?”
No. The answer is no. Especially that last one. There are some instances that we may agree to be strange, but we call it coincidental. I have felt sick when she had a stomach virus, I’ve teared up when she was upset and crying, and I have walked out of my room to find us wearing basically the same outfit. When you live with someone for almost nineteen years, weird things are bound to happen. And trust me, weird became the norm of our household.
My sister has taught me more than I ever would have expected. Sibling rivalry is at its finest in a pair of twins. We grew up competing for everything; who got the better grades, who was better at a certain sport, who got the better color GameBoy. Yes, it was like that. But even with the fights—verbal and physical—I have realized that the product of this rivalry only strengthened my drive to become better than I was the day before. I think that I am my strongest self when I have her in mind.
We didn’t plan on attending the same college, but it ended up this way. Being at the same school made us realize how genuine our friendship is. My sister and I have joined different sororities, made separate friends, and have chosen our own separate paths at the University of South Carolina. Call me crazy, but I believe twins have their own distinct identity; just like everyone else roaming this planet. We have embraced our similarities for the last eighteen years, and it’s now time to fully manifest our inner workings as individuals.
We love each other, we hate each other, and we love to hate each other. We fight. A lot. We don’t see eye to eye on many things, and we are very vocal about our thoughts towards one another. But life goes on, and I couldn’t imagine mine without her.