One step, two step.

"Oh my goodness, honey look! Youngmin is taking his first steps, hurry hurry! Where's the camera?"

"Uh, honey? Look, Kwangmin just took his first steps too. Should I take a picture?"

Pause.

"They look the same anyway, must we take a second picture?"

"Good point."

It's always been like this for me. I did something for the first time? Nothing new there, Youngmin already did it. My first words? Sounds the same as Youngmin. I finally learned how to use the toilet? Whatever, Youngmin's been doing it since 6 minutes ago. I can ride the bicycle on my own? Who cares, so can Youngmin. Ate all my vegetables? Youngmin's been eating them. All over the house, there are only pictures of one child. If family portraits didn't exist, you'd never know I existed. They say, it doesn't matter, we both look the same anyway. Fine, fair enough. But stopping me from trying new things?

"You say you want to learn baseball? Oh honey, do you really want to? I mean, what if you actually become successful? You wouldn't want to outshine your brother now, would you? That's being selfish, and you're not a selfish boy, are you?"

Of course I'm not a selfish boy. But I will say I'm a neglected boy. I've always been neglected.

One day, I was walking home alone, as my brother had been picked up to go to his baseball session. I walked down the sidewalk beside our school field. My fingers sliding across the metal fence as I walked, my head looking in the direction of my hand. A small group of boys ran out to the field, getting into formation. I watched as they all brought out their own mitts, a baseball, and a couple bats. My heart began to burn as my breathing became unstable. I clutched my chest, my grip tightening on the fence. I took a deep breath, closed my eyes, and continued to walk home. A taunting voice was heard in the back of my head. You can't play baseball. You can't play with the other boys. You can't do anything. You're just a selfish boy. It took all my willpower not to scream.

Of course, I was used to this. I would see something I'd have much passion for. I'd see something I can't reach. And my heart would beat faster, my lungs would refuse to allow in oxygen, and my vocal chords would push to let out a scream. 

I arrived to an empty home. No mother to give me a loving welcome hug. No father to play ball with. Oh wait, that's right. I'm not allowed to play ball. I wouldn't want to outshine my brother. So I set down my bag and sat at my desk, ready to do homework.

I always finished homework with a lot of time left over. I'd look out the window and watch other children meet up to hang out. I'd watch other children have fun during their own free time. What could I do? I had no friends to hang out with. Everyone praised my brother so much that my presence was forgotten. Some people don't even know we're twins. And that's completely fine with me. Because I wouldn't want to outshine my brother by having friends now would I?

So what do I do during my free time? That's a question not even I know the answer to. What do I do during my free time? Do I resent my brother for having been born 6 minutes before me? Do I think about my neglective mother? Do I think about my weak father? Do I even think? I don't know. But today, all I could do was think about those boys out in the field, carefree and having fun while throwing and hitting that ball. Heat rose to my chest again, giving pain, and my breath unstable again. Maybe if I watched other people play baseball I'll feel better. I sat back on my chair but I couldn't bring myself to turn on my computer. My hand would approach the mouse but almost immediately my chest would burn again. I let out a heavy breath, holding in my screams and tears and slowly climbed down the stairs into the kitchen. 

Time to make dinner for the family. Because I'm the only one in the family who doesn't have to work, who doesn't have to drive everywhere, who doesn't have to go to baseball practice all the time. Because I'm the only one in the family who does nothing with my life.

As I make the dinner, I try to push the thought of baseball out of my mind. But my brain refused to let me live, as it continued to flash images of the field, the boys, the gloves, the bats, the laughter. My chest continued to hurt, but what could I do? I finished serving just as everyone came in through the front door. And everyone sat, eating the dinner I had made.

We never had quiet dinners. Father would talk about his work. My brother would talk about his life. Or Mother would talk about the many great things my brother has done in baseball practice that day. And today was one of those days. Mother boasting about my brother. 

And of course I would have to endure through it, making no expression, no comment, no sound.

"Youngmin played so well today! The coach praised him so much, oh I'm so proud of my son!" I felt eyes on me so I looked up to find Mother looking directly at me with eyes overflowing with pity, and even some disgust. "You see, even if you did try, you wouldn't have been as good as Youngmin anyway. It's better that you just don't do anything. Even if you were good, you wouldn't want to outshine your older brother now, would you?" An emphasis was made on the word older. I nodded, the burn on my chest never going away as Mother shamelessly continued to talk about baseball. I held in my breath, so as not to make my unstableness obvious. And I couldn't leave the table until everyone had finished eating as I had the duty to clean. So I sat, and I listened, and my chest continued to burn. It was an agonizing process, having to listen without being able to express my emotions, my thoughts. Yes, it was agonizing, but what could I do?

I wouldn't want to outshine my older brother now, would I?