This is fiction. I'm playing around with writing in first person.

The first time I felt the emotion that I would come to know as jealousy, it was at my twin brothers’ 5th birthday party. At the time, I was three years old. It was the year the concept of birthday celebrations made an indelible impression on my psyche.

You see, at that age, I already knew one thing about myself, I loved attention.

I learned very quickly that there is no other day you get more attention than on your birthday. I stored the information away in a vault somewhere in my brain, reminding myself never to forget, “a birthday is a day your parents, grandparents, friends, and strangers fawned over you, unabashedly.”

I watched as they blew out the candles on their separate Spiderman and Ninja Turtles cakes, an unyielding grip of bitterness in my heart. Every breath came out in tear soaked gasps and wheezes, my throat strangled by jealousy. I looked around, and saw to my amazement that everyone was enraptured by my brothers. I wanted those gazes to be focused on…..me!!

Without any forewarning, a loud wail emanated from the depths of my soul.

It was so startling, my mother who was right next to me jumped in horror. Seeing her face go from a beautiful proud smile to bewilderment was quite satisfying. It almost made up for the feeling of being left out. For a brief moment, all eyes were on me, and I paused to soak it in.

But just as fast, all attention returned back to my brothers. My mother pulled me to the side, away from the party crowd. Initially, I thought she was about to comfort me, but I was devastatingly wrong.

I got a stern scolding!

Earlier, I had thrown a tantrum because my brothers got dressed for their party in matching Mario and Luigi outfits, and I had asked if there was a Princess Peach outfit for me too. When my mother said there wasn’t, I lost my shit!

Literally, and figuratively. I cried so hard I soiled myself. My mother quickly summoned my father and asked him to deal with the mess. I felt so dejected. As my father washed me clean, my tears got mixed up with the water and I felt I could cry…. FOREVER!

Now, my mother’s eyes brimmed with disappointment. It made me cry harder because I hated when my mother was upset with me. All I wanted was some attention, not to lose my mother’s affection.

I wanted a cake. Specifically, a pink power ranger cake. I wanted to blow out the candles on my cake too. But above all, I wanted people to look at me with the same glint in their eyes as they did when my brothers simultaneously blew out the candles on their cakes.

I promised my mother to be on my best behaviour for the rest of the party, only because she agreed to get me a gift after the party if I did.

When we rejoined the party, it was time to open the giant pile of gifts. A lump formed in my throat as I desperately fought back the tears that had hastily collected in my eyes, again. I tried to step forward to help my brothers open their gifts, but my mother firmly held my hand and pulled me back to her side.

As I watched the two of them open gift after gift, encircled by both adults and children, I wondered, “what is it like to be a twin? To have someone who looks exactly like you. Someone who lives with you and is your best friend?"