June 26th, 2022
Have you ever squished a bug?
I have.
When the world feels way too big to fix, my mind starts thinking small, and bugs are very small.
But they’re alive. They breathe and they eat and they think and they have families and they live lives.
And we squish them.
Wondering if bugs have souls is a stupid exercise. There is just as much evidence that bugs have souls as humans do: exactly zero. So if humans have souls, bugs do, too.
And we squish them.
And we tell all our friends and family that we’re “Pro-Life,” but we squish bugs. We tell them that life starts at conception, but we squish bugs that are fully born. We judge other people, and then we squish bugs.
And it doesn’t bother us. The murder. It doesn’t bother us to end those lives because, in reality, life doesn’t mean anything to us.
Life we can’t control, at least.
Don’t tell me you squish bugs to defend yourself.
“That mosquito might have malaria!”
That’s profiling. Nobody has ever asked a mosquito a single damn thing.
So we squish them.
Again and again and again and again.
We squish bugs.
And we pretend that life is precious.
The Den 