Who Am I?

Chapter One

"Who are you, Kaitlyn?" my therapist asks, raising one eyebrow at me. I have to admit, the question startles me. I don't know how to put it. Who am I? I've never asked myself the question before, and it has a strange ring to it. Who am I? So many thoughts run through my mind. Who am I who am I who am I. No, I cannot clearly answer this question.
"I don't know," I answer, finally. She gives me an annoyed look. "What? How can you ask me a question like that and just expect me to answer it straight on. I don't know, okay?" 
"How can you not know who you are?" she asks. I am starting to get a bit annoyed myself. That question is too deep. Too thought provoking. I can't just answer it without taking an hour, at least, to think about it. 
"I just don't," I say almost too harshly. Audrey gives me a hard glare. I've done it, now. 
"You. Just. Can't," she hisses, quoting my answer. "You have been on this planet for 14 years, and you haven't thought one bit about who you are?"
"No, actually, I haven't," I say, matter-of-factly.
"How can you choose to act how you do without thinking about it?" she asks.
"I just do it," I reply. "I don't think, I do."
She sighs and rolls her eyes. 
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I am Kaitlyn Holmes. I have been alive for exactly 14 years, as of today, April 25th, 2014. My birthday. In a word, horrible. Every year it's the same thing: two birthday cards from the oldest members of my dads side of the family, completely ignored by my mom's and everyone else on my dad's, about 10 people wish me happy birthday on facebook, everyone ignores me at school except for the occasional "Happy birthday, Kaitlyn," and I feel like shit. Absolutely ignored, like I don't matter. Like I am a ghost and I will never be noticed. It would take a bullshit show starring Jennifer Love Hewitt just for me to be seen. But, that would be after I have pitched myself off the Empire State building. 
Yes, I am suicidal. Yes, I take a razor blade to my arm everynight. And, yes, I don't care if that makes me a freak. I am just like the average, stereotypical "emo" person. According to society at least. 
Beside the scars on my arms, my physical appearance is not astonishing. I am a mere five feet and four inches. My hair is of medium length and is dyed dark brown. My eyes are hazel, but fluctuate between more green and more brown. My lips are full. The preferred size of a movie star. I am skinny, which makes me frequently called anorexic. This pisses me off. They call me anorexic, but there are many other eating disorders I could have, even though I don't have any. I could be bullemic. Why does it have to be anorexic? Anyone could see that I obviously eat more than my weight. So, why couldn't I be bullemic? I could eat that much, then throw it up in the bathroom. But, no one thinks about that, do they? 
Okay, back to how I look. My skin is tanned. My nails are short and black. My breasts are of the desirable size. I am not gorgeous. I have the always-looked-past-instead-of-at face. I'm plain, so I try to make myself stand out. It doesnt work.
Since that day at my therapist, two months ago, I have been searching for one answer. Who am I? I guess most people say that, lately, I have been trying to "find myself." But, that isn't it. I am not trying to find myself. I am trying to figure out what makes me tick. Who am I? If I were trying to find myself, then I would be trying to find who I am. Not trying to figure out the answer to who I am. I guess that doesn't make much sense. If I was trying to find myself, then I would be trying to find who I want to be. I know who I want to be, I just don't know why I want to be it. That is what I am trying to figure out. Who am I?
_____________________________________________________________________________
I wake up to my alarm clock blaring above my television, that never seems to be turned off when I am home. I get out of bed and go to my dresser. What do I want to wear? Then I look up. I see a note writen in lipstick on my mirror. Happy Birthday, sister, who is older than me by ten minutes. -Love Kadia. Did I mention I have a twin sister named Kadia? Oh, well I do. She must have gotten up in the middle of the night to do this. Which is strange, because we have the same birthday. She isn't supposed to be doing something special for me on our birthday. Then it hits me. It's my birthday. Now, I decide, I should definitely dress special for this occasion. 
I pick out a little black dress. There is lace in the back, the skirt is flowy, it only goes an inch past my fingertips, and has short, lace sleeves. I slip it on and leave the ribbon untied. I could never tie it myself. I put my wavy hair up in a pony tail. My bangs fall into my face, but I clip them back to make putting on make-up a bit easier. First, foundation. I quickly put on a thin layer of liquid foundation and then smooth it over with some power. Second, eyes. I put some dark brown eyeliner on the bottom. Then I take an eyeshadow brush and, lightly, I brush on some grey eyeshadow. Finally, I take my Falsies: Big Eyes mascara and apply it precisely, careful not to poke my eyes. Last, lipstick. I take my Hard Candy: Megawatt Smile red lickstip and apply it to my lips. I rub them together and then I put all my makeup away. I unpin my bangs and straighten out the callick. I put on my amythest gem necklace, slip on my flats, then I grab my phone, my purse, and my glasses, then I leave my room for the school day.
It's Friday, which is perfect. That means I won't have to act like today wasn't just my birthday like everyone else at school. As I am leaving my room, there is Kadia, standing there. We have the same face, yet she is, oddly, a lot prettier than I am. Her hair is in a side ponytail. She has a white headband in her hair. Her dress is just like mine, only white. Her shoes are white, silk flats with a flower on the tops of them. She had dressed just like me, only in white. She was always all about the twin thing. Her eyeshadow is white, she has eyeliner on the top and the bottom, and she is wearing pink lipstick and blush.
"You, um, dressed like me," I say. She smiles and automatically ties the ribbon on my dress.
"I've had this planned out all week," she says. "I am guessing you just picked this out today. Most likely because you didn't remember our birthday until you saw my message on your mirror."
"Oh, yeah," I begin. "Thanks for something to clean up when I get home."
She frowns at me. "I was trying to be nice."
"Thank you, but you only made a mess." I say flatly. She sighs. "Well, we have the same birthday, anyways. You shouldn't be doing something special for me on our birthday."
"I'll just never do something nice for you again," She says. "How's that?"
Before I can answer, she walks away. I sigh and shake my head. I walk the same way she went, and I almost crash into my brother.
"God, you and Kadia need to stop being places inconveniently," Chase says. I laugh. "Oh, and Happy Birthday. Did Kadia make another lipstick note on your mirror?"
"Yeah, I don't understand why," I say. "We have the same birthday. Why is she doing something special for me?"
"She's too..." he trails off.
"Nice?" I finish for him.
"Yep, that's the word, nice," he says. We walk down the stairs, side by side. He twirls his car keys around his finger. Kadia is waiting by the door, and is tapping her foot impatiently. 
"Hurry up," she says. "I don't want to be late for school on our birthday." 
"You are only 14," Chase says, "you don't need to take your birthday so seriously. It isn't like it's your sixteenth birthday."
"Oh, whatever, Mr.Adult." She replies. Chase roles his eyes, and he pushes the screen door open. We all walk down the walkway to his car. "I call shotgun!"
"Every time," I whisper. Hopefully today will be better than the rest of the week, and hopefully Kadia won't go crazy over her 14th birthday. It's not a big deal. This happens every year. Kadia get's all excited over our birthday, then she get's too crazy and humiliates herself. She get's depressed then she gets this fresh feeling of "I'll make sure it's better next year" and then the next year it goes to hell again. I also have to share the humiliation all day. 
I sit in the back seat with a book out, reading on the ride to school.
"Oh, my God, Kaitlyn," Kadia says, looking at the mirror. "Are you seriously reading a book on our birthday?"
"Yes," I say. 
'You are soo dull," she says, rolling her eyes. I just sigh and ignore her rambling on about how I need to try and be interesting today, and how special today is. It's not special. It's not special at all. A birthday is an annual event. It happens every year. It signifies nothing other than aging. Birthdays are pointless. You age everyday, so why do you need a special day out of the year to celebrate it? 
Chase's car turns into the school parking lot and he parks in the spot he was assigned when he got his car. It takes me a moment to realize we've stopped due to that fact that I have my face buried in a book. The Fault In Our Stars. A tragic love story about a teenage girl with terminal cancer meeting another boy who thought he had escaped cancer. That's not the book I am reading, though. It just reminds me of that book. It's called Zac and Mia. It's pretty much about the same type of stuff, but there are some differences in the story line. I look up when I hear someone tapping on the window.
"Get out of the car, Wolfy," A familliar voice says. I see that it's my friend, Hailey. I snap the book shut and grab my things. I scoot over to the side of the car Hailey is on, and I open the door. 
"That name is reserved for online forums and roleplays," I remind her. She scoffs and we walk away from the car toward the entrance to the school. As we are walking, Kadia falls in beside me. 
"Kait, Violet invited me to the skating rink after school to celebrate my birthday," Kadia announces.
"You're birthday?" I say.
"I was just quoting her," She says in her defence. "But, anyways, she says I can bring someone with me. I think she forgot about you, so I am bringing you."
"That sounds more like a demand then a request," I point out.
"Of course it's a demand!" She confirms. "You have to go!"
"Sorry, but I'd rather sit at home watching Lord of The Rings and How To Train Your Dragon than go to the skating rink with your wannabe Mean Girls plastic friends," I say to deny her demand-not-request. 
"Why do you have to be so dull?" She she says, ignoring my insult. 
"All of your friends are fake, Kadia," I begin. "I'll go, they'll pretend they want me there, then they'll skate away and flirt with all of the freshman boys that hang out there on Fridays. It's not my thing."
"Fine!" She shouts angrily as she stomps away. "Sit at home and be a nerd."
"Your sister..." Hailey begins, "is a bitch..."
"You don't know the half of it," I mutter to myself. "So, Emily is throwing a party?"
"All for you!' Hailey replies. 
"Rad." 
We open the doors of the school and walk inside. "See you in English, Hailey."