Mirror, mirror

And now it's started inside. Comparisons, parallels, perpendiculars, obtuse (am not putting the obes* word), acute. A lot of those feelings. And a lot of those feelings who few people can understand. At the very most they can listen and nod, but that's about it. So I guess, necessity being the mother of invention, it is also the mother of reassignment, and the mother of talking to yourself (not in the psychotic and delusional manner). Therapy doesn't solve it, a shrink perhaps would solve it, depending on the shrink. It would have to be an exceptional shrink to understand, or better still one who is a twin. But there are no twin shrinks on the island, yes I've checked. Nor is there twin therapy. Perhaps there are twin sharks, but what's that got to do with it?

Oh yes comparisons are odious. Very odious. I forget my poor Joseph when we were in primary school. Poor brother, I felt so sorry for him. I was getting A grades all of the place, he couldn't even draw a number 9 to save his life, and this was at 9 years of age. I did so much of his homework, I tried so hard to explain what to me seemed so easy. I was the celebrated twin, he was on a very low profile and on a high diet of mum encouragement. I think she thought she was actually some God putting down laws, because, according to her, she was not having a brava twin and a less bravu twin. They had to be equal. Thanks mum for starting this. The less bravu twin developed into a bravu twin, though, not more bravu than his female counterpart. Which was fine by me, by mum, but I guess not very much by dad. Dad had his little princess, and she was the best you see. But forget academics, music and stuff. I realise my twin's life has been pretty easy compared to mine. I don't think he suffered much, although there had to be some suffering of not fitting in with the crowd at some point. But my oh my how the tables have turned. I am the one on low profile now, which suits me just fine. But whatever the less bravu-become bravu twin went through, I'm not sure he ever knew the meaning of sadness. I don't think he did because he really didn't know how to handle me in suffering mode. In a way I'm glad he never did, I'm glad I took it all, but why me? Why did it have to get so difficult, a little bit of pain graduating to more pain, to yet more and to a resounding throng of pain soldiers attacking me when I didn't have so much as a shield? No mum it never was my fault, some of us bump into the wrong people, some of us, like the less bravu twin bump into the right ones at the right time in the best of circumstances. I know a pained creature is difficult to handle, but I just wanted sympathy, empathy. I got none. I got the ' it's over now so it's settled'. It doesn't work like that. And I know I am making myself to look like a cry-baby and pointing the (maybe third) finger at someone else, but I wanted someone to hear me cry. As it turned out, it was the mirror who did all that. I would cry many many tears and look at the mirror and talk to it. And no, it never was a personality disorder. Human beings just have the beauty of finding a way to cope. Mine was the mirror. No harm done there. And I cried so much that I still have lines to prove it. No, what people think are laughter lines are just sadness lines, but I just am able to pull it off. Because the world doesn't wait for anybody to heal. Your world might be on a terrifying Pause, but the rest of the world continues on Play. Not even a twin is ready to do a 5 minute Pause. But I battled it out and have lived to tell the tale with no more tears. Ok, sometimes perhaps some tears. But not the ancient tears. Because it so happens, I am a classic case of a rare text-book survivor, although I never thought I was. I can now handle just about anything, because it's when you've known the heights of grief and the depths of sadness and have worked your way through, even if it's through talking to a mirror, then I think you'll be ok. I may have been ambushed, battered and wounded, but I have only scars to tell the tale. Oh, and my mirror.

Thou shalt not ask

And it's started. What is he wearing, what hairstyle, what colour, which shoes? If I'd let these questions go on, I'm sure there would also be a what-kind-of-underwear question too. That is the price you pay for popularity. And it's not as if I am getting popular. I seem to be throwing vibes at people and telling them that I am some personal designer, hairstylist etc. I guess I am, but I am not even good at being a human being in the morning. So please lay off and ask after office hours. Yes of course I am happy for every success my twin experiences. It's the same as if it were happening to me. Honestly. But there is one stark difference, while my twin was up and about at 8am waiting for the gym to open, at the same time I was still under my duvet. So do not ask why and where and how. We are different, please try and understand that. Do not ask if I'm proud of him, yes of course I am. But that question doesn't have to give way to the inevitable, my oh my you're so different. I know that and I've known that for 35+ years. It doesn't take genius to realise that. And please stop looking at my butt in amazement as if it were the only thing out on the street. My butt is different too, don't worry it's not yours so let me deal with it thank you very much. And my hair is different too, and although it's the one thing which is in the direct eye-level range of people's eyes, they still care more about the butt then my hair. which is a pity because they're losing on seeing some good colour and artwork, but it's their loss. And yes if you want to know our underwear isn't the same either. I've never seen my twins underpants with bows and lace. Oh they're sexy enough, but still not with bows and lace and satin. So looking at my butt is not going to get anybody anywhere because I've never heard that siblings could look similar by the way their butt looks. And ours isn't similar, but it's our problem so leave mine alone. One day, after all this harassment, I'm afraid I will explode with the wrong people, the ones who will really sweetly come up and tell me just a 'ghidlu prosit lis-sur avukat'.

Oh, and I am not familiar with biceps, triceps and abs. Of course I see my twin has them, but I don't see them when I look in the mirror. I also see something which my twin doesn't have and that's a pair of boobs, but it seems boobs are not getting very popular right now. I really think that the people who come up with a million questions with puppy eyes wouldn't even see it had I to go topless. They don't have eyes for me, I know that. But seeing that I am the subtler sister, and the closest they can get to because my twin is running all over the place, then I become the victim. I try to be sweet, but I am not very good with new people, especially people asking me, does Joseph wear eyeglasses or is it just you who cannot see? I can see for Christ's sake, I wear glasses firstly to be able to see better, and secondly because I think they're a kind of a fashion statement. And my twin has my exact same type of lens power, only he will make the effort to wake ten minutes earlier to put his contacts on.

But the best of questions must be this. You're Joseph's sister aren't you... yes. You're twins hux? Yes. Is Chiara your sister, (without giving me time to answer), so are you and Joseph and Chiara siblings? NO. We are not. I know exactly where that question has been pulled out from. And yes I love Chiara as a sister because we did so much of growing up together. But the truth is we are not flesh and blood sisters, so neither is the sur avukat. Do not ask anymore, because one day soon I'll throw a tantrum so big that people will be scared to lift their eyes and take even one fleeting look at my butt. It's my butt and I cry if I want to... which I don't.