The blinds open, as well as my eyes. My mother and brother rush in. “Happy Birthday” they chant with a deafening tone. I would much rather them shout Birthday without the happy because currently that is not one emotion I am feeling, but of course not everything goes the way you want it to. Life likes to throw curveballs at you like it's a little game. I slowly get out of my silk covers and inch my way to my closet. I throw on a t-shirt, some leggings, my adidas superstars and rush down the stairs. We have eleven stairs, as my feet come in contact with every step I feel a lack of self-control almost as if my emotions have taken over me. Walking from the eleventh, to the tenth, to the ninth step and so on. Then I am distracted with my father screaming “breakfast is ready” that I forgot we even had stairs and fall straight onto my face. I quickly scoop my cereal into my mouth and rush out of the door so I don't miss the bus, again! I grab my bag and slam the door as loudly as possible before my brother or anyone else could say goodbye. I don't like goodbyes, even if they aren't forever. The definition of goodbye is a word used to express good wishes when parting or at the end of a conversation. But not all goodbyes are good ones, I recommend renaming them to be badbyes. Most days I don't talk but especially today. My birthday used to not just be mine, but that ended a while ago. Its 9:16 AM when i arrive at my first period, which happened to be my least favorite (chemistry). Margot used to sit next to me, now I sit next to Timothee Kipolit. I don't have any problems with Timothee it's just that he isn't Margot. It’s my eleventh birthday today and it's the first birthday without Margot. Margot didn't chant with my brother, mother and father this morning. Margot didn't sit next to me on the bus this morning and point out every bird that had made contact with her eyes. Margot just wasn't there this morning, at all. My mother says she is always looking down on me, but I don't believe my mother. How would she know what’s going on in Mars head right now? The answer is she doesn't, it's not possible. I get very irritated with my mother, she tries her hardest to make it seem like Margot is still with us. I miss her, her smile, her bright green eyes and long dark hair, her scent of tulips and loving personality. She always had something to say, but that was back when I was 10, and 9, and 8,7,6,5,4,3,2,1 all the way down to 52 seconds. 52 seconds after Margot was born I had been born as well. She has been by my side since day 1. At all practices, lacrosse games, hospital visits because of lacrosse games she had been there. She was always there with a soft hello and a smile to make you feel cared for. One day, that all changed. March 8th, 2003 Margot and I had just finished another day of school and I decided to walk to Timothees house. And when I wasn't there Margot needed me the most. I should've been able to see the pain in her eyes but before I could say my final goodbye I had walked home to find 24 missed calls from my mother and father and seeing them crying like nothing else mattered, which at the time nothing else did. I watch the tears roll down their red cheeks. Margot had committed suicide. Just like that, she's gone. 3:43 PM she was gone. It was 3:50 now. I don't know why and I don't know how all I know and understand is that I miss her more and more as the days go by. She was the wind beneath my wings, and it's like someone took the wind away and I am falling farther and farther into the ground. Now here I am May 23rd, 2004. Our birthday. The day we both finally turn 11. But she's not here and as my mother says she is “watching over me” but I can't imagine sitting at the head of the table blowing out the candles alone, without Margot doing it with me. For ten years it was always Emily and Margot, the twins who could do anything if they put their minds to it. Well not anymore. I sprint home from my bus stop as Timothee is screaming “have the best birthday yet!” I find that to be impossible. I can't have the best anything without Mars here with me. I slam the door and throw my bag onto the white carpet. That is all my brain can take for one day. I drift off into another day. Hoping 11 and 1 day isn't as bad as 11.