I became me the day the old me died, when all moral direction, or need for it, flew out the window in my mind. And it's absence is all for the better, because for me to be born, somebody had to die. In retrospect, I suppose that was true for original me too. Because when he was a sperm meeting an egg, the thousands of other sperm in a race for my current position of multicellular life died, and will never be recognized at all as more than what could have happend. Will anyone cry over their death? No. Will anyone ever hold them in their arms, call them their child and raise them to adult hood? No. I, and I alone won that right! But what does that make me? A monster? Or merely a human, living upon the suffering and death of my unborn kin. Congratulations to all reading this, you won! And to all who came after... well, non did.