There’s a cactus outside my bedroom window that’s drinking up all the water in the desert. The cactus thrives while I have chapped lips. It’s a selfish cactus, which I guess is the nature of a cactus. It’s built to suck up water. I can’t blame it for doing what nature intended it to do. In truth, though, I wish I could chop it down. But since it’s so prickly, no one can touch it. I suddenly feel bad for the cactus, because it didn’t choose to be this way. It just is this way. And then I think I shouldn’t be so hard on my sister, Hannah.
