I can't kill flies. I haven't been able to for quite some time. I hate when other people kill them, too, even if they're driving me completely nuts. This annoys some people. There have been a few times when I had a moment of weakness and had to partake in mass slaughter because there were at least thirty flies in my room and I couldn't sleep at night. I felt so horribly guilty afterwards.

If I see a fly drowning in the water in a windowsill or sink, I have to save it. I can't help but at least try and extend its life, if only for a bit. Most everyone else goes around swatting flies, and I don't judge them for it, but I can't do it.

I try to persuade flies to leave me alone.

I talk to them.
I practically beg them to stop flying around my head, or landing on me.
Other times I just let them, and ignore the tickling of their little fly legs.

Still, this leaves me wondering. Why do I really care about these tiny, seemingly insignificant creatures? Some people don't understand how I can handle letting them buzz around my head, land on my arm and crawl around a while. I don't really, either, except that it's much the same as anything annoying me, that includes humans. I've a high tolerance for such things, given my family situation, and..

I would never kill a person just because they annoy me from time to time,
so why would I kill anything else for doing the same?

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