I hated my younger sister. From the day she was born, it felt like she was born to oppose me. That day, because of her birth, my parents didn't attend my elementary school entrance ceremony. I stood alone, helpless, in a completely unfamiliar environment. In that moment, I realized I was abandoned. 

Because of my younger sister, I was no longer the most important person in my parents' hearts. 

I studied hard, striving for every award I could get. In my spare time, I read, wrote essays, drew, and practiced dancing. I was well-rounded, morally, intellectually, and physically, and I was the best child in our school. Even so, I still received no recognition or praise from my parents. 

They always ignored my excellence, frowning at me and saying, "Child, you don't have to work so hard." 

Furthermore, they always sternly told me, "Take your younger sister with you when you go out to play!" 

It seemed as if my only reason to stay in this family was to take care of my younger sister, to play with that clingy, mischievous, and crybaby. What if my younger sister grew up and no longer needed my care? Would I be kicked out? 

As fate would have it, my younger sister became mentally retarded, three years ago this summer. Her once bright eyes became dim and dull. She, once a tearful woman, never shed a tear again. Her once nimble mouth seemed to have lost its power, refusing to speak. At that time, I thought my happy time had finally arrived. 

Although I cried heartbreakingly, half-heartedly, I was certain I was happy. My younger sister was no longer worthy of comparison. From then on, I was my parents' only, most exceptional child. 

However, things went against my wishes. After my younger sister became mentally retarded, my parents seemed to love her even more, to care for her even more. She became the center of their lives, their sun, their life. 

So much so that every night before bed, I would pinch my arm fiercely. 

I had to make sure I was still alive; I had to make sure I wasn't invisible; I had to make sure I wasn't air. 

It was obvious that all this was my younger sister's scheme. 

She wasn't mentally retarded; she was pretending, deliberately doing it, to make my parents completely ignore me, to deprive them of all their love. 

Although she appeared dull and speechless, she possessed a deep cunning mind. 

I absolutely would not believe that she was a fool. 

She would always secretly put my personal diary in a place where my parents could easily find it, or scribble all over my homework, and even secretly put broken glass shards in my dancing shoes. In her bulging little belly, there are countless tricks, and no one except me can see through them.