the science of realization

My sister was having me critique her college application essays. She just handed me a stack, saying something along the lines of, "sorry if it's kind of a mess, these are first drafts, I'm over the word limit on all of them, and if I made some stuff up, don't hang me." I sorted through the stuff she made up, was amazed at her writing skills, and as I handed them back to her, I realized I'd missed one.

No sorting through creative liberties this time.

I love her.

"Who am I? I'm the opposite of my sister. She has brown hair and green eyes, offsetting my blond hair and blue eyes. She's short; I outgrew her years ago. But our differences are deeper. She's outgoing, but keeps friends at a distance. I'm selective but confide everything in the friends I have. She's lively on weekends; I curl up with my book. She's lackadaisical when I literally cry over spilled milk. She excelled in high school. I learned the hard way. She waddles like a duck; I strut like a peacock. I love making lists that she loves to lose. I aced AP English, she bested AP Biology. She writes Spanish poetry; I create monologues. She's overbearing, and I'm painfully shy... We both struggle with emotions; I vocalize volumes and she expresses excerpts. We are different. The hardest thing I learned is that 'different' isn't unequal. I spent years measuring up to her until I learned better. She's no longer the sister people like best, but my best friend, the way I define myself, my equal, and the mirror where I find who I really am."