There are two basic lies about twins: that we are the same person, and
that we are not. We are, of course, recognizably separate, but we are
less than two individuals. What one of us does, what one of us is, can
only affect the other.
The point being: there is no light without darkness.
How many evil-twin movies are there, do you think? How many have you
heard of? Have you ever wondered why one twin is always good, and the
other is always evil, and why they find it so easy to impersonate each
other? But the evil twin always dies at the end, and the good twin is
always relieved; that's what makes it a movie.
The point being: there is no good without evil.
Twins know that they were once the same person. The boundaries between
us are very thin, and their exact location is hard to pinpoint. When
you're hurt, do I cry? Yes, and here's the strange thing; most often
you don't. When I fail, are you embarrassed? Yes, and you won't like
what I'm going to say: I never am.
I'm asking you what I ask myself: how much of you is you, and how much
is me? What do you do because I'd like to, and what do I do because you
won't? How much of your life have I lived, and how many of my dreams
have you had, and what does it mean that I still love you?
The point being: there is no love without hatred.
The truth is, actually, that I hate the piano. Not only because I
failed, but because I was never interested in the first place. You
wanted me to, and so I pretended. It backfired rather badly, and I'm
not sure you realize that. If you did - I hope - you'd realize that
it's happening again. Not even you could walk into a trap, eyes closed,
after having had them opened for you once.
Not even you - what am I saying? Of course you would, because I
wouldn't. I walk into traps with my eyes open, ready to strike a deal
with the hunter.
Because you won't.
The point being: there is no innocence without experience.
And I'll tell you something else: you think I'm the one who's
misguided. I've left the garden and I'm not trying to get back - oh,
dear, we are religious today - and so naturally I must be wrong. Not
that you'd say the word; you don't deal in absolutes, not you.
Confused, you say. Made some bad decisions. "At least I make
decisions!" I scream with every minute of my life. "At least I'm not
trying to return to somewhere that never existed in the first place!"
I've been a lot of things, dear, but "confused" has never been one of
I am not you, and you are not me, but we are part of each other. To
what extent do we make it possible for each other to exist? We create
each other, and we destroy each other, and we create each other again.
and if we could stop the cycle, blend into each other, let the serpent
swallow itself, what would be the result?
The point being: there is no madness without sanity.
The point being: how do you tell the difference?