Dear Meggie,

Can you believe how many people still don’t know we’re twins? It seems strange, that you have always been a part of my life, and yet still, there is some part of the world that doesn’t know the two of us as a unit.

When you’re a twin, you’re never alone: it’s so hard to be your own person. One of the oldest photos I can remember of us as children  is of the two of us in matching polka-dot dresses, awkwardly posing just a little too far from each other to look natural. Neither of us were looking at each other, just frozen in an unsmiling curtsy; it was like we were social distancing 15 years before it became a thing.

I’m sure those matching baby photos will always be cute, but it was so frustrating to my younger self. I thought, “I don’t want to be associated with this other person that I argue with all the time and find incredibly annoying. I didn’t ask to be a twin.” And I’m sure you probably thought the same. To this day, if we see each other wearing the same shirt, one of us will run to change before we head out the door.

When you’re a twin, there’s an element of constant comparison, intentional or not. It’s like a science experiment: given the same variables (DNA, time, resources and environment), how will the two trials turn out? And for us especially, I saw you as the person I could have been with fewer failures. Less struggles. Because, let’s be honest here, you are far better functioning than I am, academically and socially. We are very different people, and you happen to have the more socially acceptable traits. I watch you succeed and think, What went wrong with me? Why can’t I do the same? Worst of all, what if my failures reflect on you? I don’t want to be the sister that people look at you and say, “Oh you’re the one who’s sister is the quiet anxious weirdo who gets bad grades and is never on time with deadlines.”

Looking back, I’ve realized that that kind of comparison is so ridiculous. We try too hard to be our own people, not realizing that we’ve carved out so much of each other’s lives. We aren’t extensions of each other – rather, we define a huge part of each other’s living experience.

I remember in freshman year, while we were still doing distance learning because of the COVID-19 pandemic, the two of us got interviewed for an El Estoque story about twins in quarantine. Recently, I went to watch it again and was fascinated to watch the way we talked: you were loud, confident and maybe even a little aggressive, whereas I was a little deadpan, quiet and was nodding along more than speaking. But I could see how we would fill in each other’s sentences or watch each other as we talked. It was so comforting, to look back and realize that I know you, and you know me, better than anyone else, even our parents and friends.

We have never really needed words to explain to each other how we feel. I cannot count the number of times we pulled each other into doing something, into an impromptu gaming session, taking photos for each other’s articles, proofreading each other’s essays or taking a walk to 7/11 – no matter what, we’d follow each other without question. To know that you will always be there, always understand me and that I could be the same for you gives me so much joy.

You are my second set of eyes through which I see the world. We are polar opposites, from personality to style to college major, but our differences are each other’s strengths. Through watching you interact with the world, I find new things to love, reasons to persevere and inspiration for my artwork. Growing up is realizing that you aren’t the person I could have been, but the person I want to be better for.

When you’re a twin, you’re never alone: you have someone to love from the very start. Our existences started together, 18 years and a few months ago on the same planet, and now they’re finally diverging. It’s hard to imagine that there will come a time where you aren’t a room over from me, but I don’t think any distance could possibly change the way we are a part of each other. I love you more than anything in the world.

Here’s to all the years to come,
April