Diary That Show Me The Truth Journal Entries

The Diary That Showed Me the Truth

“Jealousy can lead to unspeakable things”

I saw those few words in my book yesterday. And, my God, how those words take me back. Back to the hatred and jealousy that consumed me only six years ago. My twin, Martha, was perfect, said by my parents and almost everyone she had spoken one word to. Me, on the other hand, was far from that. I was most definitely not perfect. And I hated myself and my twin for it.

My only goal during my first year of High School was to be better than my twin. I wanted to be the one looked highly upon my parents, kids, and teachers. I was jealous. And because of it, I would do anything and feel nothing for her.

“Honey, you look beautiful,” my mother said, while I was walking

I was always second to Martha.

As we got into the car, my sister tried to start a conversation, but I could not bear talking to her, so I had just ignored every word she had said. I had always ignored and shut her out. That car ride, I pondered over ways of making my sister feel the fear that I had felt. I wanted to give her the same feeling of fear that she gave me every day; the fear of being the disappointment, and having your sister be the achiever.

In the lunchroom, I had sat down by myself. I had trouble opening up to people, and so making friends was not the easiest. My sister, on the other hand, sat down next to her large group of friends. They laughed and talked among each other. I then noticed laughter, but their laughter was directed at someone. I looked around the room to see whom this may be, but then I realized it was me. They were laughing at me. I looked at Martha, who was whispering something to her friend. That was the last thing needed, for me to truly loathe Martha, and all of her friends, her grades, and her way of moving through life. I hated, yet wanted it

Then, I saw dizziness in his eyes. My father started moving his head back and forth until finally, he lost consciousness and control of the wheel. Our car, going at 75 mph with no one to control it, loudly crashed into the stop sign a block from our house.

I sat there, frozen. I looked over to my parents, both fine. As I turned my head, I saw my twin covered with blood. But it did not seem to fully resonate how badly the crash truly was. That whole moment was a complete blur, and all I heard were screams of panic coming from my mother. Some said I was in shock. But the feeling that I had felt was different. I felt sympathy, but little for her. She would get better, and then my parents would get back to treating her like she was an angel sent from heaven. I kept on reminding myself to not feel anything for her, as she never felt anything for me.

“Honey, Martha is being sent to the hospital and we must go,” my mother whispered to me sobbing.

I then looked over to see my father who had been woken up by a doctor and was covered in tears. “It is my fault, I am a terrible father,” he kept on