Twenty-five years ago I was one lucky sperm of my father that fused with one chanced egg of my mother that created a zygote with twenty-three pairs of chromosomes. I embedded myself in my mother’s uterine wall. After thirty hours, I am told I became an embryo and after some time a fetus. Thankfully my mother did not abort me, but if she did, I guess I would not have known anyway. During my nine-month stay in my mother’s womb I created millions of eukaryotic cells, each carrying their very own copy of my genetic code. These cells, by order of this said genetic code created proteins that in turn ordered the formation of my tissues, which in turn formed the organs that made up my body. I was birthed via cesarean section on January 27th, 1984, the same birthday as my mother. I have fair skin that has made my life easier, so I am told. I am also above average height, which I hear is also conducive to good life, and even more so, I have two arms, two legs, twenty digits and all the other characteristics evolution has seen fit for human beings to generally have. Some time after being born, I began to walk upright, and would require eight to ten hours of sleep a night to maintain normal body function. I had a childhood that was ordinary by American standards. I learned how to piss into toilets and not onto myself. I developed preference for things like broccoli and my grandparents, and distaste for mathematics and catechism class. I went to school, received good marks, was active enough to maintain an average weight, made friends, and started a gang. My parents and both sets of grandparents were very proud of me. I went to college, learned a great deal, and lost my virginity. During my sophomore year of college my grandfather died. Soon after I lost God. I did not get sad. Losing my grandfather was sad, losing God was enlightening. I have a great number of good friends that I love, a beautiful family that I love, and a band that I care a great deal about. Statistics tell me that I will live at least another fifty or so years, and with modern medicine, who knows? This sometimes makes me happy, but sometimes it scares me, because I worry a great deal about the influence of Western religion, getting things poked in my eyes, our president, and overpopulation. Nonetheless, I have concluded that living with the fear of these things is far better than dying.
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