I have a moral dilemma...

...and before I get into it, you should know this isn't a joke. I've come here because this is the only place where anyone will listen to me. So, here's my dilemma: I'm standing on a bridge, above some railroad tracks, and tied to the tracks, just behind me, is my own mother! This wouldn't be too out of the ordinary for her, as she often gets overly dramatic and feigns suicide, but she always checks to make sure the tracks are out of service first. This time, I see a train coming down the tracks! Now, next to me on the bridge is long lever, which allows me to vastly increase the force I can apply to a large object, and in this case the large object is a mechanism that moves the train to a different set of tracks. I can pull this lever, and save my mother, but I feel like you should know some things about her, first. She used to beat me. Well, she beat me once, but it was really bad. It wasn't for no reason. Admittedly, I was up to a little trouble. You see, I wanted an allowance, but my parents never gave me one, even though I offered to do all sorts of chores, even untie mom from the train tracks every time she got dramatic. But still, no allowance. So, I had to turn to some more dubious extra-curricular activities if I was going to have any money. I know what you're thinking, but selling drugs was far too risky for me. I found a much more reliable way to get some fast cash. First, I split my soul in two and made a Horcrux (yes, I murdered...we'll get to that), then, I sold that piece of my soul to Mammon, who gave me the power to instantly know a persons net-worth just from looking at them, along with ten billion dollars. Then I realized that Mammon paid me for a whole soul; that sucker didn't even know what half a soul looked like! So, I went ahead and made eight more Horcruxes, because fuck Voldemort, that's why, and I sold them all to different demons at full price. I even got Beelzebub to grant me the power to look homeless at will. I didn't think it would be particularly useful at the time, but it came in handy. People don't look at the homeless. Anyway, I was flying pretty high on my Horcrux money, until it all disappeared from my account. Apparently demon money does that. That happened around the same time that my mom noticed the ants, and this is where I should mention my murders. I wasn't actually going to kill people, I had some moral compass back then, but I decided that I could kill ants. Surely they don't matter. But that's the problem. For the soul to split, you have to really feel the brutal act of murder in a way that killing an ant just doesn't illicit. So, I began keeping ant-farms in my room, studying their movements, learning their social structures. I became intimately familiar with every part of ant life. I really knew what it was like to be an ant, a cog in a machine so much bigger than one's self, to live for the colony and keep no identity. And once I had achieved oneness with my ant friends, I killed them. I killed them all. Well, 11 of them. The first two were practice. Once I no longer needed to murder, I just kept the rest of the ants in my room. They were still cool to look at, but I got lazy taking care of them and they started getting out. That's when my mom went in my room and found all of the ant-farms on top of dark-arts books and deposit slips from the Great Bank of Satan. Busted. That's when she beat me. But, you have to understand, this wasn't a normal beating with a belt or something. She used a crucifix and kept shouting "GET OUT OF HIM, GHOST!" I had no idea what Himghost was or how I got in it, but I guess it just means trouble. So, yeah, after that I left home, penniless because my demon money vanished, and with no place to live. Luckily, I was able to look the part thanks to Beelzebub, and Mammon's trick helped me pick out which people to ask for money. It turns out, I could use it for net-worth, or just how much cash was in your pocket. I used to freak people out by saying "Come one, I know you have twenty-one dollars and thirty-two cents! You can spare one of those fives." That almost always worked, and I actually made a pretty decent living for myself that way. Which brings us to today, with me, standing on the bridge with the lever that will save my mom if I pull it. So I pulled it. My mom and I have a complicated history, but I'll always help her out in a pinch. What's really been bugging me is: should I have really felt that bad about killing those ants?