I have been ruined by my parents, who fought for the rights of unborn babies, animals, and rainforests. Now I am dreading a task that is quickly approaching: thinning the seedlings. Is it me, or is that just like selective abortion? Here these little guys burst through the ground all enthusiastic to grow and bloom and be oohed and ahhed at, and I'm about to say, "No, there's not enough nutrients or space for you. Let's give the others a better chance. You'll have to go." And then they are ripped from the womb of Mother Earth. Forever denied the chance to fulfill the measure of their creation. They will shrivel up in a pitiful pile off to the side of their botanical siblings. This is just awful.
Even worse, I know it's coming, but they don't. They have to grow just a bit bigger before I end their little lives. Every day I trick them into thinking that they've germinated in just the right spot, as I shower them with fresh water and positive affirmation. Little do they know. I am actually feeling guilt over this. How do I possibly choose? Just yank out the weak looking ones? Weren't some of the greatest minds of all time weak as children, of frail and delicate composition? How can I judge these little wildflowers in their infancy? Will I be held accountable for this later on, this casual selection of life, albeit plant life? Oh, my. What has become of me?