The day you were born, you were born free.

"My dad said that when I was little, I liked to listen to the Beatles. They said that my favorite song was Hey Jude, and that I really hated Bob Marley."

Everyone leans in and shares in the discussion - what they liked and what reminds them of a carseat and the face of their parent shoving a sippy cup in to their face. They laugh and they ask questions and they compare notes, while my mind races. How did they know what your favorite song was? What if you didn't like the song that made you laugh, because you really liked the songs that made you quiet and sad? What if you were a bowl of self pity at that age and enjoyed the songs that made you think and made you angry? How on Earth can your parents know when you can't articulate that you want a sandwich instead of whatever they've got in that bowl? And what if they were wrong? What if you hated that song and you only like it now due to the power of suggestion that they instilled when you were ten and they convinced you that it was your favorite?

How do you know whether the thing in front of you is going to be a footnote in a book some day, or the dreamer on the corner who was too afraid to conform? What's going to stop them from ending up in the papers as the local monster that others use as an example for what they hope their kids never end up like? You? Are you going to stop them?

Nature vs. Nurture is scarier than religion, I don't care what anyone says. If you're wrong about God then you're hurting yourself, but what if you're creating the next Unibomber every time you rub their back? And what if it doesn't matter how many hits you take for them - it's already setinstone that they're going to hit a wall and bring their whole science hall with them?

I'm sick of hearing, "you just do your best," about everything. It doesn't apply to tests, your new job, an interview, the first time that you drive, and certainly not the raising of future generations. Your best may very well not be good enough, and the idea of such deserves more analyzation than hope and optimism and silver linings that may not be yours.

Apathy makes me cringe, and I'm consistently recoiled lately.