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[Moderate Language]

[Idealogically Sensistice Content]


This is a short piece I've done for my Non-fiction class. This event happened about 5 years ago, just a few months before graduating high school. Anyone may read it and if you have an idea to make it better, by all means share away. Just note that this is a first draft and is pretty rough. 




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Thought provoking to say the least.... Peeling back the flowery rhetoric, it shows what the concept it denounces brutally entails, the unecessary ending of a life, one living and breathing amongst us right here and now. 

Yeesh. This will make you support adoption, in vitro fertilization/ ectogenesis, and just straight up parental/pregnancy counciling instead. Just anything but "that"... goodness... 

Wartravaller is right, it has rough edges; needs a second draft. But it's a good start and brings a realist honesty to a bloody subject sugar-coated by pandering politicians and backwards moral judgements as archaic as the Dread-Scott in the 1800's. 

 Makes you wonder, seeing your own life how many others could have been just like you...but the other "choice" was made.  Art makes us think and moves the spirit; this will do that. It's not flowery, it's not idealistic, but that grit sticks in your brain like sand on skin. It erodes presuppositions perhaps many people heigh which people have become too cozy. Sometimes such is needed to change minds. For one you capture the power of the "if." Contrasting your sister and you shows how death at a young age ceases one's potential for this life at the start. That would have been the case with you if your mother consented to this irrationalism. No Nagol, no childhood friend for me, no member of FreeScribes. Your whole existence would be like the empty spot under that tree...except this one would not have to happen. And maybe, if people had dedicated their time and effort in inventing, funding and legislating to save life rather than fueling this regressive alternative, maybe that spot would be filled with presents this very day. You never know for certain, and that's the tragic part...

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  • 4 weeks later...

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