My sister found my secret. Not in my journal. Everyone knows to look for secrets in journals.
My sister found my secret because she had left her biology textbook at school, and she needed to study, and that’s exactly what she said, I needed, and then she added, you hate biology.
It’s hard to tell someone you deeply hate them when that someone you hate is the someone you’re telling, and not only is that someone your sister but your twin, your identical twin, which means she’s exactly like you, exactly in every way which means you just don’t hate her because she’s smart and thin and has straight blonde hair which your mom says you’re lucky to have because it won’t look bad when it starts to gray, not that a fifteen year old is thinking about going gray, but you think about your skin, which is just like her skin, blemish free, and you hate it, you hate it, and you write in pencil and pen and highlighter and big block letters and at the beginning of chapter seventeen in tiny horizontal letters repeating themselves over and over without a space, comma, or period: Ihatemyselfihatemyselfihatemyself.
Roger D’Agostin is a writer living in Connecticut. His most recent work has appeared in The Bookends Review, Gambling The Aisle, and Blood+Honey.
Modern Flash Fiction 