Growing up as a twin , I was constantly fighting with my sister. She always wanted the exact same thing I had , even if her favorite color was purple and mine was blue. If I had it, it was 'unfair' if she didn't have the exact same one. 
When I was in second grade, I won my first award for an art project I had drawn and received a medal. We actually had to cut it in half with a saw because my sister would not shut up for a whole month on how 'unfair' it was. She dialed the cops after the second week and they actually showed up at our house all because she was still having a tantrum. 
      Our grandmother from my moms side named us. I was named Mariposa and my sister Marisol.  According to my grandmother , who is Spanish , my name apparently meant butterfly. Marisol, pressed as ever, would argue with our grandmother every time she saw her because her name apparently didnt have a meaning. She demanded that her grandmother change her name but she would only laugh. 
        Sometime in the summer of 5th grade my sister had found access to the Internet and was able to research her name. She came to me with the biggest smirk on her face and proceeded to flaunt the fact that her name was a literal translation of 'sea and sun' and how she was better because her name had two meanings. I remember this year specifically because she would not shut up About it. When we had to stand up to say something special about ourselves the first day of sixth grade art classes this girl actually stood up and said her name had two meanings and continued with her explanation.
    I , on the other hand, did not like my name as much. My name was a weird name , it was a name that was mispronounced by every substitute on planet earth. I, having no knowledge in the Spanish language despite the fact that I was half Spanish half Korean , couldn't not even pronounce my own name right. I remember I got so tired of it that i spent a whole two week rolling my tongue trying to pronounce the r in my name correctly. Slowly, but eventually I was able to pronounce my name as 'mah-ri-poh-ssa'.
      Our mother died the year after we born so we never got to actually see her. But we were told we resembled her in a lot of ways. Our dad especially , liked to comment on the fact that we looked exactly like her. I honestly could not see what they meant. We took out everything from our mom except our eyes. Our eyes pulled from our Asian side , what a surprise, but we did have double eyelids, thanks to our dad. 
        Going through highschool, my sister had a few boyfriends while I had none, despite the fact that we looked exactly like each other. Looking back, we had a really pretty face , a pretty long hair ash brown hair, but everyone only ever paid attention to her. I did try to fit in , but it never seemed to work. Around my second year of high school the realization that I don't have to do what others want me to do hit me like a truck. Around that year I became what my father deemed "rebellious". I dyed the beautiful ash brown hair I had to black  and wore only black and grey. I was labeled as an emo when in reality i wasn't even trying to be emo. I just wanted to look intimidating. I rarely smiled , and studying was a thing I wasn't even good at. The only thing that ever interested me was science. In specific, astronomy. I loved looking up into the sky and being able to identify constellations. It was a small talent I could show off to the few friends I had.
         Marisol got pregnant at the end of her junior year of high school and she didn't know who the father was. She blamed it on her recent boyfriend and dumped her after that stunt. After a few months into her senior year she dropped out and had her baby in December. Our father was an honorable and respectable man, he supported us in whatever we wanted to do , but he was very furious with Marisol. He got all the boys she had ever gone out and sat them at the lab to get dna tested on all of them once the baby was born. The result, was pretty funny , because none of them came out as the father and there was about 4 of them there. According to Marisol, she had a one night stand with a Chinese kid she met at her best friends sweet 16. My dad was able to get ahold of his parents , but the kid had gone off to college all the way in New York, while we were here in California. 
         Marisol went back to school only a month after dropping out of school to try  finish highschool after the school counselors keep begging her. Personally, I don't understand how they could be so persistent with a girl who didn't even want to hear the word school. Our dad even promised to pay for a babysitter. Regardless, she went back anyway and was able to pass most of her classes with a borderline C in all classes and a strong B in art.
       We both graduated that year, much to our dads surprise. He threw us a big party , bought a huge cake and invited most of his friends he could contact. We hardly knew any of them , but we were thankful to have someone to celebrate such an event with. 
       Around September of graduating , my sister was determined to become a kpop idol. She claimed to be a great singer and with some dancing skills she'd be perfect. I , on the other hand, headed to our nearby college and started studying. I wanted to become an astronomer. To tell the truth, I wanted to just work at nasa. I just wanted to work at the place I admired the most, even if it was the simplest job ever , like filing papers or something. I was determined to working there, so I went to college. I quickly learned that math was not my best friend, but that in fact it was my nemesis and wanted to kill me . I thought , maybe if I study harder ,maybe just maybe calculus would become easier but that was not the case at all. My whole first semester was spent with me crying in my room at 3:00 in the morning because I couldn't understand my homework . The fact that I couldn't understand a simple identity triggered me so much it sent me into a depression. It terrified me and made me feel completely worthless. 
    I dropped out after my first year of college and quit my dream of working at NASA. I signed up for a cosmetology class so that I could atleast get my license to get a rather decent job. The year I turned 19 was filled with me going to cosmetology classes 6 hours a day and me trying to dance along with my sister while she practiced as a way of cheering myself up in the middle of crippling depression. 
     My sister had my dad perfect her Korean at night and she went on a diet. She cut her bangs and curled the ends of her hair everyday. She was trying her best to look like an idol. 
The day came when a big label company visited Los Angeles for auditions. Marisol, of course, signed up and took the opportunity. She wore a face mask five times a day and ate probably a piece of celery and a cherry tomato the whole week before her audition.
        The day of her audition I promised to take care of her baby while dad dropped her off. She spent a whole day there, and we were expecting good results since she worked so hard. She came home happy, she said the judges were very kind and she was happy she was even able to audition. But weeks and soon months went by and she didn't not receive a single email besides the one thanking her for her attendance. 
        Two days before our birthday , she cut her hair to her shoulders.She said she was giving up on her dream. I remember her coming up to me asking me to cut it for her, since I had just gotten my license. As I was cutting her hair I noticed marks on her body. I didn't tell her anything, probably out of fear of remembering my own depression, but something was definitely wrong. 
     The day before our birthday she told me that she wanted her son , Christopher, to grow up to be Doctor. She said she wanted to him live a life where he didn't have to worry about money. She keep saying how she wanted him to grow up to be tall and handsome and how she hoped that he married a very pretty women who could be just as great as him. The way she was wording these sentences alarmed me, and I regret not noticing before , because it still haunts me to the day.
     The day of our 20th birthday , our dad brought home a cake from work. I tried to look for my sister , but she wasn't home. We Tried calling her a bunch of times , until we found out she had left her phone in her room, on top of a folded letter. With my hands shaking I picked up the letter.

It was her suicide note.

     As I read it I tried to yell,scream , to my dad but nothing came out . The letter simply explained how she had no hopes for the future. She didn't want to live a life where she couldn't live it the way she wanted to. 
       I ran to my dad and showed him the letter. Immediately we dialed the cops to and began calling hospitals . We looked for her all night. 
The cops looked everywhere for her, but we were left the whole night sleepless waiting for any news on my sister. 
   The next day in the morning there had been a report of a body that had fallen from a building. We were called to the police station and we showed up in a hurry. To our dis belief, it was Marisol. I had never seen my dad cry, but that day , on my 20th birthday , I experience my sisters death and my fathers tears. That was the day that I realized death was really friendly to our family. I realized that day that my depression was much worse than I had thought.