Comparison is a bitch. It can rip you up into tiny little pieces of your old self and throw you to the dogs for feeding. It can make you feel so small inside that you wish someone would rip you up and get it over with. All my life i have been graced with the pleasure of sharing the lime light with my twin sister, Tanya. Well when i say sharing i mean, 99:1, me being the 1 of course. My parents only wanted one boy and one girl and one year previous to my entrance to this good forsaken fucked up world, my brother and confidant, Emmett was born. When my mother found out she was pregnant again and it was a girl, she was over the moon with joy. When she found out it was two? Not so much. I was essentially the fifth wheel in the family, the runt if you will. I was never wanted and have been told that from a very early age.

Tanya was this outgoing, all-round American girl who was tall, had dirty blond locks, hazel orbs, was president of everything, that wasnt acedemic, and "friends" with all the football team. i was petite and skranny, i had brown hair and eyes that resembled a "shit" shade and pale skin. I was president of the music society because that was the only society you actually had to have talent to get in to. While Tanya had her group of friends that a minority wanted to be her and a majority wanted to be in her, I had my really friends that got me by.

Take my best friend in this shithole, Jasper Whitlock, who commenced our friendship by playing barbies with me in the kindergarten sandbox and to this day denies it. He is a self-proclaimed surf-rocker who pisses on pop like its a sport, with the help of myself, while looking like Shaun Cassidy in the 70's with shoulder-length blond hair and brown eyes. He denies that too.

Jaspers sister Rosalie is every mans dream, or so she says. Her bleach blond hair, her baby-blue blinders and modelesque figure to die for. She is very intellegent to top it all off and her one passion in life is cars. But her orbs only see one man and he so happens to be my oaf of a brother.

My mother was a big problem for me all my life. She ensured that i felt unwanted and inferior to Tanya because i wasnt the golden child. When we were eight, for christmas i wanted my first guitar and i begged and pleaded santa for months. Tanya on the other hand wanted a dresser fully stocked with makeup and that was what she was getting. Now our family had a tradition that the presents were left, by Santa, at the bottom of our bed not under the tree. I always found this tradition disturbing as some fat guy in a suit not only knew which house we lived in but also what room was ours. On Christmas eve, after many bottles of wine, my parents proceeded to carry out the tradition. So that Christmas morning i woke up to a giant barbie dream dresser complete with barbie make up and jewelery set while Tanya jumped for joy at the semi- acoustic at the end of her bed that she had wanted for months. Being the eight year old i was i ranted and raved that that was my present but to no avail. I had no time for girly presents like a stupid dresser. That was the christmas i had dinner in my room after being told to suck it up and let Tanya have her fun.

For the month of January i cursed the fuckers who invented the amp as Tanya had not a musical note in her noggin to start with let alone when she trys to play like Gene Simons. Although i doubt she knows who he is. After a while she gave up and moved on to something else but i was still not to touch or even look at the sacred guitar for fear of me breaking it. And then when the guitar did mysteriously break in the middle of April, i was blamed for its untimely end. Even though i had witnessed Tanya smash it against the wall. Her word against mine.

At the age of thirteen i started to "blossom" as they say. My skranny-ness was being slowly taken over by two melons that hurt like a bitch. When little 'ol Tanya noticed one day at swimming lessons, she complained to mommy dearest. I was actually in trouble for having brests. That weekend, we went out shopping for a "girls day out". Tanya got a push-up bra while i got a sports bra that was designed to push-in and there for to the complete stranger Tanya got the double D gene.

When i was fourteen, my parents had had enough of each other and divorced. My mother got us twins and we were moved to Forks, Washington where my grandma lived, away from everything i loved. Tanya constantly reminded me that the split was my fault and that i was the devils child for doing this to my parents. The devils child indeed i was. When we moved to "sunny" Forks, my mother developed a greater drinking problem than before and so the torment worsened. We only saw Charlie at school holidays and Christmas, this ment i didnt get to see my friends or Emmett as he stayed in Phoenix to go to high school there.

They were only some of the horror stories that were my life. The worst of all was when i was fifteen and was fainting and sleeping a lot. I was staying at Charlies for Easter break when he noticed my newly found habits. He took me to the hospital because he knew there was something wrong. Fourteen days later i diagnosed with Dilated Cardiomyopathy. It was where my heart couldnt pump blood around my body due to my left ventricle being weakened from a hidden family history of Thyroid disease on my mothers side. They put me on drugs and ensured i was ok to live life. Through the three months i went through hell going back and forth to the hospital to get more drugs and treatment for my disease, my mother consoled my sister who was weeping over the fact that i was so selfish to bring this up on the family just after she had won a cheerleading competition. My bad.

The year i turned eighteen, going into senior year in the fall, was the year i took for the worst. And this is where my story begins...

let me know what you think, whether i should continue :)