I have a twin sister, and we were born only three minutes apart.

But our destinies are completely different.

When we were young, our house caught fire. My sister was rescued by our parents first, but when she tried to come back to save me, the house collapsed.

Although I was eventually rescued, I inhaled too much thick smoke, and my voice became hoarse. Since then, I stopped speaking proactively in front of others because opening my mouth would invite others' scrutiny and ridicule.

During summer vacation, my parents sent me to my grandparents' house because my sister had to participate in a poetry recitation event. She said my voice was too unpleasant, and if I stayed at home, it would affect her performance.

Upon hearing this, I cried bitterly in the car, saying, "I promise not to speak at home. I won't affect my sister. Mom and dad, please don't send me to my grandparents' house, okay?"

I didn't see my parents' disgusted expressions as I cried and pleaded with them not to send me away.

But how could I have known that my parents had made up their minds and wouldn't change their decision because of my begging?

In the end, I was left at the doorstep of my grandparents' house.

I was very afraid because both my grandparents had terrible tempers. My father had been taking medication for mental illness and had to go for regular check-ups. I knew that was his childhood trauma.

My grandparents' moods were unpredictable, and they didn't like me. After I arrived, I became their maid.

Not only did I have to cook and do laundry every day, but I also had to get up early to deliver milk and newspapers. All the money I earned had to be given to them.

Even so, I couldn't get a smile. All I received was a bowl of cold rice.

During that time, I prayed every day, hoping for summer vacation to end soon so that my parents could come and pick me up.

I waited and waited, hoping and longing. Finally, I saw the news on TV that my sister had won a gold medal.

I was overjoyed because my sister had finished the competition, and my parents would definitely come to pick me up.

I immediately called my father, but he said he had prepared a celebration banquet for my sister and invited many people. He was busy and didn't have time now.

Before I could finish speaking, I heard my sister's voice, "Dad, what are you doing? The teachers from my school are all here. Hurry up and come greet them."

Then my mother's voice, "Why are you calling at this time? The television station reporters are here too."

Then, the phone went "beep beep beep" and was hung up.

I sat on the ground, holding the phone receiver, not knowing what to do.

It was my sister's celebration banquet, my parents' proud daughter, with the school teachers and television station reporters, and our relatives.

What about me?

What am I?

Oh, I'm just a monster who scares people away as soon as I speak.

My grandparents kicked me out of the house, telling me that summer vacation was over, and they had no obligation to take care of me. They asked me to go home on my own.

I walked back home with my backpack, from noon until midnight, to reach the doorstep.

I knocked on the door, and my mother opened it.

When she saw me, she screamed in surprise.

I called out to her, "Mom, Grandpa and Grandma made me come back by myself..."

Mom furrowed her brows but still pulled me inside.

My father also came downstairs and saw that I came back alone, so he asked me what happened.

I told them the truth.

My father paused for a moment but then took a step back, covering his nose, and said, "Yuan Yuan, go take a shower first."

It was the hot summer, and I had walked so many miles. The sour smell on my body disgusted my parents.

I silently went to take a shower, tears streaming down my face.

My parents never asked me how I was doing or worried about how I walked alone for seven or eight hours to get home.

All they had for me was disdain.

Perhaps, after that fire, onlydarkness and abandonment awaited me.

I grew up feeling invisible, like a shadow in my own home. My parents and sister focused all their attention on my sister's accomplishments and talents, while I remained in the background.

My sister became a renowned poet, winning numerous awards and accolades. She traveled the world, attending prestigious events and giving recitations in her beautiful voice.

Meanwhile, I struggled to find my place in the world. The trauma of the fire and the neglect from my family left deep scars on my self-esteem and confidence.

I found solace in writing. Through words on paper, I could express myself without the judgment and ridicule I faced when speaking. Writing became my voice, my outlet for all the pain and emotions I bottled up inside.

I started sharing my writings anonymously on online platforms, where people resonated with my words. I received messages from others who had experienced similar feelings of neglect and invisibility. It was comforting to know that I wasn't alone.

Over time, my writing gained recognition, and people started appreciating my unique perspective and raw emotions. Despite not being able to speak, my words touched the hearts of many.

One day, I received an invitation to participate in a literary event. It was an opportunity to share my work in front of an audience, something I had never done before.

The thought of standing on a stage and exposing myself to scrutiny terrified me. But deep down, I knew it was a chance to reclaim my voice and confront the demons that had haunted me for so long.

I decided to take the leap and face my fears. With the support of a close friend, I prepared for the event, practicing reading my words aloud until my voice resonated with strength and conviction.

The day of the event arrived. As I stood on that stage, facing a crowd of strangers, I felt a mix of nervousness and determination. I began to recite my words, pouring my heart into every syllable.

As I spoke, I saw tears in the eyes of some listeners. Others nodded in understanding, connecting with the pain and longing I had expressed so vulnerably. In that moment, I realized the power of my voice, even if it wasn't conventional.

After the event, people approached me, expressing gratitude for sharing my story. They told me that my words had touched them deeply and inspired them to confront their own struggles.

From that day forward, I continued to write and speak, embracing my unique voice and perspective. I became an advocate for those who felt unseen and unheard, using my platform to shed light on the importance of empathy and understanding.

While my sister's achievements may have overshadowed me in the eyes of my family, I found my own path and purpose. I learned that my worth wasn't defined by my ability to speak or conform to societal expectations.

Today, I continue to inspire others through my writing and public speaking. I have found a community of people who value and appreciate me for who I am, scars and all.

My journey has taught me that even in the darkest moments, there is always a glimmer of hope. And sometimes, it's through our deepest wounds that our most profound strength emerges.