My Evil Twin

November 22, 2013
When she appears, she’s grouchy and rude, with a scowl etched deep into her face. She never smiles or laughs; there isn’t a humorous bone in her body. I can’t stand her, and even though I try to make sure my friends don’t meet her, I can’t hold her back. It simply infuriates me. Sometimes when she is in an extremely bad mood, she’ll scream and cry just to get what she wants. She has no consideration for others and only thinks about herself, especially when it comes to boys. I remember a time when my evil twin stole my best friend’s boyfriend; it’s my twin’s absolute favorite thing to do. She’s stolen at least twelve. I can precisely recall my best friend, furious and devastated that she had been betrayed. My twin was triumphant, reveling in the despair of another. Wearing a smirk on her face, she walked away.
I believe my evil twin has no empathy, but a strong hold on manipulation. She can make anybody do what she wants with just a glance. People will write her papers and do her homework to escape her wrath. Her power hungry attitude leaves people crushed under the weight of her platform wedges. When I’m not paying attention, she abases my friends and has a condescending attitude to all. Then I’m required to do damage control. I have to eventually make it up to my friends somehow for the bad behavior of my evil twin. How could she not feel the pain she inflicts upon others with her cruel words and caustic jokes?
Many people turn their heads away from me at first glance; they worry I am her, with our light brown hair and round facial features. In fact we have the same China doll lips and brown almond shaped eyes. Our porcelain features are so delicate that no one could suspect what lies underneath. Of course they get us confused; we are one. So it is sad when they turn away, for the chance they might be subjected to my twin’s humiliating remarks and criticism. Whenever she comes out to play, no one wants to be around me. Her presence is like a disease in my life. Everywhere she goes I can see the flowers wither and die in her path. She hangs around me like a dark moody cloud; I never know when she is going to strike next. Her eyes, my eyes, narrow like daggers at every person, warning them to stay away.
I think her moral compass is broken because she obviously can’t tell between right and wrong. It’s a shame that she just so happens to be part of me; a dark bruise upon an otherwise perfect apple. Wherever she wreaks havoc, I’m required to pick up the pieces. I have to carry the burden of her crimes. How can I hide her true colors? I need to stop her. Her goal is to eliminate the real me, and maybe it’s too late.

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