Perhaps one of the more unsettling thoughts that has passed through my mind lately is the understanding of how well a mosquito perceives the inner workings of my anatomy.
Sure, one might argue that it is not a very advanced knowledge, and that the mosquito merely follows its instinctive programming to find the ideal places to bite me.
And that is true; I am not claiming that the mosquito is capable of perceiving my internal structure while comprehending that its food source is a sentient organism with thoughts and feelings (though there is no real way of knowing for certain...).
It may not know me, but it knows how to bite along my veins and arteries, drawing its own little dotted [ITCHY] map across my flesh in the same way humans leave litter along their highways.
It knows where I taste best, how to get right to the good stuff. It doesn't need me to do a darn thing, it just helps itself and moves on. It is somewhat pleasant to realize that, if I fail at all else, I have at least been of service, of use, of value, to a small handful of living beings.
Those little suckers get high for free from the substance cocktail that flows within me. If that's not charity, I don't know what is.













