On January 23rd, 1990 I was born with a twin. He came out first, and while coming down the pipe he gave one final kick and turned me sideways. I almost died and my mother had to get me out via C-Section.
Since the day we were born we were polar opposites.
He like vanilla ice cream. I liked chocolate.
He is left handed. I am right handed.
He is color blind. I am not.
He has a patterned tongue. I do not.
He would only eat peanut butter sandwiches. I would only eat jelly sandwiches.
He wanted the Blue version of Pokémon. I wanted the Red version.
He wanted my toy kitchen. I wanted his tool set.
He really liked Harry Potter. I refused to read it because he liked it so much.
He dropped out of high school. I got a full ride scholarship to college.
Well it turns out that our polar-ness isn’t just surface level, it goes much deeper. My mother was and will always be a sore subject for me. In many ways I have yet to forgive her for so many things. My brother moved away at 16 and I was left to deal with her. In a way I think that is why he is able to forgive her so much. But then again he gave up his high school education just to stay home every day to make sure she didn’t kill herself (if you’ve read previous posts, I did not learn about this until just recently). This holiday season he mentioned how sad he is because our mother always made sure every holiday was about us. She wanted us to know how special the day was from the moment we woke up till the moment our heads hit the pillow that night. He is able to remember those times fondly while I still hold resentment that she ended them when we were 11.
So our biggest opposite is:
He forgives our mother. I do not.