I am convinced I was once a conjoined twin. I have evidence. A scar, about the size needed to share a portion of liver and maybe a hemisphere of brain tissue is on my arm.
I’m just waiting for the medical archive records to be comprehensively available online: I’ll be there- Baby XYZ, and his sibling, ABC.
The scar is there, but also the emotional evidence. My mother always claimed that the middle child (I am allegedly the middle of three boys) misses out on things, herself being used as an example. So I got encouraged in all sorts of unhealthy activities. I’m sure these were to attempt to distract me from my sense of loss- where did my twin go?
She did tire of me approaching her with a magnifying glass to ask her to explain each blemish on my damaged flesh, and managed to hold the secret to the grave. My dad just has no idea, and would happily admit that he had seen me vacuumed up into the mother-ship to be probed nightly for two years, if he thought it would shut me up.
I think it’s time for the other guy to come forward. You’ve clearly taken more than your fair share of lung, judging by my excessive coughing, and you also took the part of my head where self-confidence and general joy live.
Are you out there? Imposter? A parallel me with opposite scars? Do you think it’s funny that my one leg is about .5mm shorter than the other? (I measure it daily, to remind myself of what I have lost). Did you get to become a famous explorer and heir to millions? Did you get to have a pet dog that wasn’t taken to the pound within three days and euthanized? Did you have to cannibalize me, did you?
I know you had no say in this, but now is your chance. You can come forward, hell, take over from me if you want. I’m tired. I need someone just like me, only better, to come and fill in for a while. Dear twin, please come. But stay the heck away from Neen. We may be ex-conjoined twins, but we’re not that close.
I’m just waiting for the medical archive records to be comprehensively available online: I’ll be there- Baby XYZ, and his sibling, ABC.
The scar is there, but also the emotional evidence. My mother always claimed that the middle child (I am allegedly the middle of three boys) misses out on things, herself being used as an example. So I got encouraged in all sorts of unhealthy activities. I’m sure these were to attempt to distract me from my sense of loss- where did my twin go?
She did tire of me approaching her with a magnifying glass to ask her to explain each blemish on my damaged flesh, and managed to hold the secret to the grave. My dad just has no idea, and would happily admit that he had seen me vacuumed up into the mother-ship to be probed nightly for two years, if he thought it would shut me up.
I think it’s time for the other guy to come forward. You’ve clearly taken more than your fair share of lung, judging by my excessive coughing, and you also took the part of my head where self-confidence and general joy live.
Are you out there? Imposter? A parallel me with opposite scars? Do you think it’s funny that my one leg is about .5mm shorter than the other? (I measure it daily, to remind myself of what I have lost). Did you get to become a famous explorer and heir to millions? Did you get to have a pet dog that wasn’t taken to the pound within three days and euthanized? Did you have to cannibalize me, did you?
I know you had no say in this, but now is your chance. You can come forward, hell, take over from me if you want. I’m tired. I need someone just like me, only better, to come and fill in for a while. Dear twin, please come. But stay the heck away from Neen. We may be ex-conjoined twins, but we’re not that close.
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