If I were a baby, I have the right not to be born

World, have you ever heard me cry out in the amniotic fluid?

If my parents were underage, I would not have been born. You are just a child, young shoulders how can load the weight of another life? You shall not, for your childish and impulsive pleasure, plunge me irresponsibly into the world for which I am not ready.

I would not have been born if my parents had met only by chance, not expecting to form a strong alliance. I ask you to settle your problems by yourselves. Even if you have no choice, you must swallow the bitter fruit by yourselves. Any illusion that my birth would dissolve the conflict and remake the relationship would only add to the chaos. Please don't use me as a fleshy bargaining chip to coerce the other person into marriage.

If my parents came together for power and money, please don't let me be born. When power fades like the sea, you may sail away, and I shall be left alone on the grim rocks. I was too frightened of this fate before I was born. When the money stops shining for one reason or another, you can return to poverty, but I need the most basic living conditions. If you cannot guarantee my growth with your own hands, please do not let me be born.

If my parents union without legal protection, I would not be born. I don't particularly value that piece of paper, but how do you expect me to trust my parents if I can't even give them a piece of paper? Maybe you have a million reasons, maybe you think it is fashionable and popular, but because I am young and helpless, only stubbornly follow the old creed - if you love me, please give me a whole and strong home. I hope my parents have a sense of responsibility and love. I hope to have a warm roof and a dry bed. I wish I could see the smiling faces of my family. I wish I could touch the silky lips and soft fingers of my parents.

My mother, I solemnly declare to you that I am entitled to a fertile womb and abundant milk. If, through your carelessness and even your indulgence, you have destroyed the land that was mine before I was born, by the wildfires of instruments and viruses, and made it barren and desolate, I refuse to take root here. If I had to suck the milk flowing out of the silicone crevices, I'd probably think twice about it.

My father, I solemnly declare to you -- if you have genes and genetic diseases, restrain yourself from any chance or folly. You have no descendants, please respect and self-love. The human race is a grand whole, not a narrow succession. If you let me come to earth covered with illness, it is your stupidity, but also my sadness. Not all births are happy, and not all hiding is cowardice.

To my grandfathers and grandmothers and grandmothers, I would like to express my love to you. I know your hopes. I know the legend that blood is thicker than water. I can't blur my life's purpose just because you're blind. I should be better than you, it takes more harmony more effort. Don't daub my birth plan book with all your unfinished fantasies. If you give me too much unrealistic pressure and indulgence, I would rather run away from a family like yours.

My parents, if you already have no expectations of your marriage, please don't let me be born. Don't think of me as the glue that binds you together to mend the cracks that have long broken. I am not the snow, can not cover your emotional corpse. You have no right to deny your treatment, to deny your condition, and to impose the hope of recovery on a wordless child. That is your incompetence, and even more your wickedness.

My parents, I'm not unreasonable. You may also have miscalculations and accidents, I do not ask for eternity and perfection. I will not dislike poverty, but can not tolerate base. I won't ask for luxury, but I need the most basic living conditions. I crave warmth. If you're still in the cold, give me a break. I envy reunion, if you never get out of the division, don't let me join the army of suffering.

My parents, remember this advice: My birth was not my choice, it was yours. Do you have the foresight to make such a solemn and irrevocable decision in the place of another life? Do you have enough courage and patience? Do you have enough wisdom and sincerity? Do you have enough strength and patience? Do you have enough love and compassion? Do you have enough reverence and awe?

If you do, I would like to come out of the chaos, become Dan, and become your children. If you do not have, I am willing to wait quietly, just like a flower waiting to open. If you ignore my voice and use your power to coerce my birth, you will be punished by heaven. That punishment will not come from me, a starving child, but from your broken hearts.