There are specific times in my life when I get a twisted, warped sense of déjà-vu.

Though, I suppose that name wouldn't quite fit. You see, when I get this feeling— I haven't already seen what I'm now seeing through my eyes.

Instead, I know I will see it again. Like my eyes are a camera, and my brain has decided to press the record button. Everything is in frame, and the picture is clear. The film is rolling, and there's no retakes.

We've all heard the phrase... my life flashed before my eyes.

That phrase means nothing really, in reality. There's no concrete meaning behind it at all. For me, I imagine it happening in the seconds before you leave your weathered and broken body and depart into whatever the hell is out there waiting for us. I imagine it like bits and pieces of old films, just seconds taken from a different roll of flimsy black plastic, flashing through your mind's eye. Those seconds form a montage, years and years worth of seconds. Each roll of film is a memory, a minute... a blink of time that you've lived through in this lifetime.

And these specific times where I get this feeling of déjà-vu? It's like I can see exactly which snippet of film will play before I die.

I guess for most people— those snippets would be good memories. Sure, I have a couple of those. Those minutes when all is right in the world. Those seconds where the world goes quiet. Everything bad, everything worrisome... it all just melts away because in that single second, there's nothing to worry about. Everything is exactly how it's supposed to be.

But... I don't have many of those moments anymore. I haven't for quite a while.

Even so, right now, as I'm sitting in an uncomfortable plastic chair in an airport coffee shop, I'm experiencing that feeling of déjà-vu.

The camera in my eyes was pointed at the stranger in front of me. It was focused on her light brown, almost blonde hair, the soft curls that I wasn't sure were natural or sculpted from a hot iron. Her makeup was subtle, perfectly placed on her face to enhance her already gorgeous features. To an untrained eye it might not even be detectable.

Her clothes looked expensive, perfectly chosen and styled for her and her alone. Her pleated tennis skirt and her white tank top, with a pink cardigan placed over top. It certainly wasn't the type of outfit that I was used to seeing from anyone I could call a peer. She wore a silver chain around her neck, a small diamond heart falling onto her pale skin.

Her blue eyes were soft, like they were coloured with a pastel chalk. They were staring back at me, her mouth was slightly opened as she gazed at me. I knew she was thinking the same thing as me, I knew she was feeling something similar to what I was feeling.

A dull sense of bewilderment, because though this girl before me wore details that couldn't be more different than the ones she's observing of me— I saw myself in her.

I couldn't pinpoint exactly what features of her face looked like the one I look at in the mirror, but I couldn't deny the resemblance. Maybe it was the shape of her nose, or the way her cheekbones curved upwards into her face.

It wasn't the hair, because mine was so dark it could be considered black. It wasn't the eyes, because mine were a mixture of blue, green and brown. It wasn't our skin, as mine was a slightly darker hue.

But, no one could deny what that annoyingly expensive DNA test already told us— we were sisters.

"This is fucking weird," I finally muttered, pulling my eyes away from her at last. I wasn't quite sure how long we had been sitting here, staring at each other. But it was long enough that I was beginning to feel awkward.

She straightened her back at my words, and I watched as a small smile grew on her lips. She let a laugh out, and it sounded as delicate as she looked.

"It is a bit weird, isn't it? But, I have to tell you Dahlia, I'm so excited to know you. When we got your email... well, I just couldn't believe it. I've wanted a sister my whole life..."

"And now you have one." The words sounded blank as they left my mouth. I wasn't nearly as excited as she was, it seemed.

Family, in my opinion, was something that only led to disappointment. Disappointment, and pain.

But, it seemed that Daisy was the only family I had left. And frankly, I was out of options.

Daisy didn't seem to be swayed by my dull tone, her smile staying still and her eyes staying bright. "How was the flight?"

"It was shitty," I told her, my voice coming out like a sigh. "The woman next to me had a baby that didn't want to shut up."

I picked at my ripped black jeans as I spoke, feeling subconscious in the sea of designer clothes I was now surrounded by. It had only been a two hour flight, from the town I had lived in for the last eighteen years to Sapphire Cove, but the constant crying of the thing beside me made it seem like fifteen hours.

Though, I'd be lying if I said that's what I was focused on during my time spent sailing through the air. My mind had been at full capacity, knowing what I was flying to.

A sister I had just found out existed, and a fancy town I had no choice but to call my new home.

I was anxious about it all, and I'm sure the constant tapping of my almost falling-apart shoe under the table told Daisy just how anxious I was feeling.

She let another small laugh fall through her lips, her hand sweeping away the stray curls from her face. "Yeah, I've been there. Last month when we flew to Bali, there was a little boy sitting behind me. He kicked my seat the entire twelve hour flight. My mom had to bribe me with a new pair of shoes not to say something to his mom."

My eyebrows raised at her causal references of wealth in her words. She didn't speak of them like she was bragging, or flaunting. No, she spoke of things like Bali and new shoes like they were just another occurrence.

And, judging by the sense of affluence that leaked from her, I guess they were.

I wasn't completely blindsided by it, either. When she had invited me to come stay with her family, I looked up the town she mentioned.

Sapphire Cove. The Google results told me all that I needed to know. A small town directly on the coast, it's rocky shores and beautiful views attracting tourists from around the world. But it's residential areas had gates, and it's schools were private. It was quite clear, that if you wanted to be a resident, you better have money, and lots of it.

And judging from the looks of the people who walked by Daisy and me, it was quite clear that I didn't have any at all.

Daisy looked awkward at the silence I let grew, clearing her throat gently. "Have you travelled much?"

I felt my eyebrows raise as I looked back at her, feeling a slight pit form in my stomach. I wasn't sure if it was embarrassment, or jealousy, or annoyance.

Because it seemed that just like I had no idea what kind of life was sister had lived, she clearly had no fucking idea what kind of life I had lived either.

And it was certainly not one that involved travelling.

"Nope," I told her, and she seemed to understand the slight undercurrent of grey that my single word hid. "I've never been on a plane until today."

"Oh," she smiled at me, nodding her head. She took a breath, her eyes darting down towards her hands.

I felt a surge of pity flash through me, at the sight of her awkwardness. She was trying. She really seemed to be excited, as she said, to know me.

And, I couldn't deny how much she was helping me. She, and her parents, were willing to invite me in. To help me. And, well, I needed all the help I could get.

"Tell me about yourself," I said, watching as my words seem to put some of the excitement back into her eyes.

"Well," she said quickly. "I just graduated. Mom told me that your senior year was last year, but..." she paused, slightly biting down on her lip.

I knew what she was stumbling over. I didn't graduate, because I needed to work instead of go to school. I need to work, because I needed to afford rent. And, to me anyway, being homeless was worse than being a high school drop out.

"I have a boyfriend," she regained her composure. "He's a year ahead of me, so he went to college last year. His name is Erik. We've been together for three years now."

"Oh," I faked a smile, "wow. That's a long time. Is he coming back for the summer."

"No," she sighed, and I heard the pain leak through her voice. "He's staying up there, but he'll visit. Do you have a boyfriend?"

"Nope," I relied on a single word again.

"Ooh," she seemed giddy at the thought of me being single. "I'll have to set you up! Oh that's so fun. You're so beautiful, it will be no trouble. There's Teddy, or Michael, or Xavier, or maybe Jalen. You know, actually Jalen is..."

"I'm not really..." I cut her off, once again guilty for the awkwardness that radiated her when I did. "I'm not sure I want to date."

"Oh," she smiled at me again. "That's okay."

"Are those guys all your friends?" I asked, stunned by the way she listed them off so quickly.

"Yeah," she nodded, "you'll meet them. They're all great guys. You know, some of them are athletes though, so you know how that type is," she rolled her eyes at me, but then seemed surprised when in fact, I didn't seem to know how that type was.

Surprising to none, when I was in school, I wasn't hanging out with the jocks or the cheerleaders.

Which... I would bet any money that Daisy, was.

"And the girls are great. They're so excited to meet you, too," she tried to keep the conservation going.

Daisy opened her mouth again, but was cut off by the short ding emitting from the phone in front of her. She looked down at it, skimming the message with her eyes.

"My parents are here," she said as she stood up. "They're so excited to come and meet you. They just wanted to give us some time alone, first, you know..."

"Since we're long lost sisters?" I said dryly, as I stood up with her.

Daisy didn't sense my sarcasm, as she smiled back at me. "Yeah, exactly. Look, they're pulling up now."

Daisy pointed to the glass wall that separated us from the outside, clearly towards a dark grey car that had pulled up the curb. I wasn't surprised when I saw the make of the car, knowing that it was worth more money than I would likely ever see in my life.

And at that moment, I understood why these moments were being filmed by the imaginary camera in my mind.

It wasn't because it was a happy experience, being reunited with the sister I had been separated from for fifteen years. It wasn't one of those moments where everything went quiet, because nothing else mattered.

It was the opposite. It was one of those moments that everything becomes loud. All of my questions, my thoughts and my memories— they were all screaming at me.

Because it was a moment that only reaffirmed to me what I already knew— that luck was a real thing. Some people were born with it, and some people weren't.

Even when your DNA is so similar, there's only subtle differences between you. Some people are born to laughter, and memories that are cast in a light so golden it makes everything shimmer.

And, well, some people are born to pain and a night with no stars.

Some people are born butterflies, and some people are born moths.