Sometimes when I spit, my own living cells splatter into the porcelain bowl. When I scratch myself, it's like an Armageddon where tens of thousand of cells are damaged, killed, or dislodged from my skin to go floating through the air, only to die because they have not the means to defend or feed themselves while lying forgotten and unknown in my mattress. I am a nation of tens of trillions, and I'm a despot that regularly kills millions of my own citizens, sometimes just for fun. I scrape away and kill thousands with each bite of nachos. The evil chips keep damaging me as they scrape down my esophagus. In my stomach, partially protected citizens hose the mash down with strong acid, and try not to succumb to the corrosive like their brothers. They don't last long in their position, but I have rank upon rank of their brothers to take their place. Their fate could be worse. The could work further downstream in the sewer, what doctors like to call my intestines. I literally have dedicated specialists that sort food from waste, and spend their entire lives in the churning, bacteria laden waste. Many are scraped free from their home, perhaps by a surviving sharp edge of a nacho chip, only to join the froth and be eaten or killed. Yes, I'm even a cannibal; I have citizens whose sole job is to eat other citizens of my esteemed nation. I have others that eat intruders... yum!
I am a seething mass of sin and horror, a collective being that would scream in pain always, if I could only feel the sensations of all of my cells. But the individuals matter not, only the pilot, the pseudo consciousness that tries to make sense of the world, the faux intelligence that tries to pretend that every action is made for reasons other than pure selfishness. What ignoble creatures we are. Do not try to sway me with arguments that paper thin sheets a few square inches large have human rights and feelings. I shit that much of myself away everyday. Do not try to sell me that a fetus the size of a walnut, a thing that wouldn't have anything approaching human sentience for years, has the rights of an adult. Might as well try to tell me I should be convicted of murder for clipping my fingernails.