You, the ones who thought I would be better off dead because my designer genes don’t fit with the world’s definition of normal. You, who thought that since my life would be different, it wasn’t worth living. You, who thought this world would be better off without me and my disease, by saving me from the pain that goes along with my life, you would have spared me from making a difference in the life of that one, and that one, and that one, and that one.
If you’d have killed me out of mercy, you’d never have had the chance to find out who I’d become. Maybe I’d find the cure for cancer or AIDS. Maybe I’d find a way to stop world hunger. Maybe I’d be the one to save the life of your mother or father, husband or wife, son or daughter or brother or sister. Maybe I’d change the world, or maybe I’d just change one life.
But then again, if you got your way, you’d never know. Because you didn’t think I was worth the chance.