There has always been a missing part of me.
I was an identical twin. My twin died shortly after birth.
Growing up I always felt there was something missing. I didn’t know what it was, just that it wasn’t there. Everything would have been different, better if my sister had lived. I would have had that one person who understood me. That one person that loved me more than anyone else did. That one person missing. My twin.
Even now as an adult there are times I feel that way still. I have lots of really good friends. I love them and couldn’t imagine life without them. But not one of them knows me completely. Not even my family knows me completely. I am sometimes outspoken. As I have gotten older though I keep many thoughts and opinions to myself. Old friends know the younger me and the current friends of the last 20 years know the adult me. My twin though she would know ME. Not the young me or the older me, just ME.
I always had the fantasy that my twin didn’t really die and she was adopted out. One day we would meet and be the best friends and sisters. Wouldn’t that be cool?