Right in the glimpse of summer in a excessively hot January, a sister was born.
4 years and a couple weeks early a bother was born.
They were bred into the complications of non-nobility, middle class income and the worst of all, unconditional love from the breders.

She was a mess but tried to be perfect. She tried to accomplish every goal and set herself standards that were impossible to achieve, but she tride. And failed. And wanted to die. But dying was failing.

He was a mess and wanted everyone to know. He'll punch a whole trough his door, call everyone names, sell ilegal substances and then try to fix it by saying he was sad and tried to justify everything. No one ever knew what his true intentions were, but she knew there was something hidden. Something he was not telling.

Their mom was perfect. She truly was and everything they ever wanted was to make her happy but them both seemed to fail. Miserably. But she loved them both more than words could yell into an ocean of failures.

But it was a curse. A curse for the sister that seeked perfection, aproval and a love that could be measure or worth of the effort she made. But everything she got was the same unconditional love, split in half. Not a tiny bit more.

And that was her curse. She had to live being disappointed at herself because she wanted to know why no one understood why she deserved more. Why couldn't she get more love than him? Why should they be equals when she's done better, brighter, smarter, accurate things that him?

She wanted to **** him. And maybe she should.