The Woody doll divided us. I had a Buzz Lighting doll. She had a Woody doll. I burnt Woody’s hat. I left it on a lamp while she was either in the bathroom or asleep. The top of his hat glued to the lamp. I wasn’t creative. I never wanted anything because I didn’t know that those things would be possible. It was awful how jealous of my sister I was. I wanted everything she wanted. Every time she came up with something new I wanted a part of it too. But I don’t know what I want at all. Not having a clue how to find what I’m missing, I ended up copying what I saw. Now I have no one to copy. Now I am a zombie looking for my purpose.

By Cristina Collazo