Thanks a lot!
For filling me full of false hope. When I first met you, I thought there was something off. Your manner, your being, your interests just like mine... I was sure that there was something wrong with you.
I thought you worked for the ABV. I mean, it would be easy for them; to snare me in such a way. Send some nice lad to waffle on about humanoids to me. And I, lonesome and touch-starved as I am, would sit with you, for marcs and marcs, out on the Plains. Entirely alone. You could've thrown a sack over my head and tossed me into the back of a bos wagon. And what would I have done to that?
I was sure there was something wrong with you. If not ABV agent, then bandit, thief, or bonded heterosexual. You know, like the others. There was something wrong with all of them too. The ones that have pursued me before. The ones that I have tossed myself against, and came away stung by their barbs. But I am learning self perseverance now, and I am wary of you.
I thought you might be a murderer, or other unsavoury things. He's too perfect, were the words that I used when asked by my friends. Too perfect there must be something wrong with you; so I sat looking for a fault.
But I didn't find any. Not really. You were funny and clever and intriguing. And when we fought, you were good at it. You're good at arguing. I like that.
Too perfect. You never missed a step. You never stumbled or slipped. You never put a toe out of line. And I, foolish as I am, began putting you on a pedestal. I began holding you to ridiculous standards. And yesterturn, I upset you so greatly, that I caused you to run away.
You're not too perfect. Nor is there anything wrong with you. I recognised you yesterturn; when you turned and fled. You are me. Just in different shoes. But we want the same things and think the same thoughts; and the colour of our dreams is just the same.
We are both imperfect and wrong. You are like the looking glass. And I can see all of my cracks. I am unreasonable. The stress fractures. The vexation I cause others; the joy I spark in them too.
You're just like me, and I am sorry to have held you to impossible standards. You needn't be anything other than what you are. So, I will be for you later; with a lemon tart.
And I will say, thank you. Thanks a lot. For being my twin, and forcing me to see all that I am.