ORIGINS: The torn hot-air balloon of the third character in the original series reminded us of a circus tent. There were two halves, each one in the mouth of a wolf, and for some reason we thought of conjoined twins sharing a beautiful dress.
I didn’t mind sharing my facial features with you. It was nice, knowing that Life liked my mold so much, that it couldn’t bear to break it after just one use. But I draw the line at my dreams. You can’t copy those. So, this is goodbye. You can remember this smile, and I will even let you use the scissors. But don’t ever come near my dreams again.
I never liked being one of a pair. Wearing the same dress. Having the same haircut. Just so they could say that they didn’t love one of us more than the other and sleep soundly at night. With a clear conscience. And not a single bitemark, after blowing us a goodnight kiss, just one, from afar, and telling us not to let the bedbugs bite. If a pair of scissors could have done the trick, I would have used them in a heartbeat. I would have given anything for a chance to love you. But we didn’t make the rules in that house. We were just there to be loved. And we had no say in the definition of that word.
Growing up, there wasn’t a day I didn’t feel like a doll. Someone else put words in my mouth. Someone else dressed me and told me that she loved me. I have heard that playing is learning, and I guess that it just takes practice. Because even though you wear the same dresses as me, only some of the words that used to be in my mouth are now in yours. She hasn’t broken you yet. You are still her beautiful doll. And I just wish I had a pair of scissors that would let me run away. Somewhere I didn’t have to look at that face that looks just like mine. At that face that learned from my mistakes, and found a way not to let those words bury her smile for good.
Why am I the only one that feels threatened? You should hate looking like me. You should want something that was just yours. A hole in the world only you could fill. Why am I the only one that feels replaceable? It’s not fair. Don’t tell me that you don’t need the world. Don’t tell me that all you need is a hole in someone’s heart. No one looks beyond looks. And I don’t want to have to be the one that has to cut her hair. I don’t want to have to be the one that sacrifices little pieces of herself, just to be irreplaceable. It’s not fair that you get to be yourself. You should lose something too. If you loved me at all, you would.
I don’t care. You can call me needy all you want, but I am not done growing up yet. And even if I have to use needle and thread, I will make sure that you stay by my side. I won’t be alone. Not while there is still wonder left in my eyes. Life still feels like an adventure. I can still feel the blood in my veins, telling me not to be afraid of the monsters. My blood says that I am invincible, but every hero needs a party, and you will be mine. Because I refuse to fall prey to loneliness, before I have even had a chance to step into the world.
I thought that blood was supposed to be thicker than water. But apparently it’s no better than the weakest thread. And maybe it wouldn’t hurt so much if your heart was bursting at the seams with love for me. But you barely know me. Even though we are growing up together, under the same roof, you barely look at me. And on the rare occasions when you do, I feel like water. See-through. Or worse. Sometimes you make me feel like the sea. Do you know why? Because I have heard that there is hope beyond the horizon, and that is where you are looking, isn’t it? You keep hoping for someone better than me.
Why are you looking at me? I didn’t do anything. Anyone could have used that needle and thread. I know that you feel trapped. That you wanted to grow up, and finally be alone, where you wouldn’t feel like you owed a piece of your heart to anyone else. But you should look on the bright side. I don’t love you, and I would never demand such a thing from you. I have heard that there is strength in numbers, and I don’t understand why you are so eager to part ways. We are still children, and I think that we should just make the most of it, while our demands are still being met.
Don’t we share the same heart? We certainly have the same eyes. Doesn’t that count for anything? Meeting a good friend, someone that won’t spoil you or scar you while you are growing up, is harder than finding a needle in a haystack. And I thought that I had lucked out, because I wasn’t born alone. You were there, from the start, and I thought that I wouldn’t have to look anywhere else. I thought that our hearts beat as one. That when I called you would always answer. But if our hearts are songbirds, mine must be buried in hay. You make me feel like a scarecrow. And I don’t know what I did wrong.
Left Twin: I don’t like sharing my thoughts with you. You always make me want to break into tears, just to have something to wash them off with, before you can do any more harm.
Right Twin: Don’t be like that. You have to look on the bright side. At least I love you. If you put your heart into words, and shared it with anyone else in this uncaring world, tears wouldn’t even spare you a little bit of hurt.
Left Twin: On the count of three we will think of what we love most in this world.
Right Twin: One.
Left Twin: Two.
Right Twin: Three.
Left Twin: …
Right Twin: …
Left Twin: Hahaha. Look! Our answers matched.
Right Twin: You are right. It was wrong of me to expect you to give me hope.