and the Pain of the Soul Is Truth.
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Vegetarian food feels like something only people who study,
or do neat little intellectual work,
can really digest.
Hard, heavy labor demands protein. No way around it.
After I finish a day of exhausting, back-breaking work,
or when my body starts begging like it’s starving,
I stuff my face with meat till I’m about to burst,
and for a moment, I feel satisfied.
But that joy belongs to the body,
not to the soul.
Because of what this damn body keeps demanding,
because I eat meat and feel that rush of pleasure,
I feel like I turn into a demon in that moment.
I gorge like that,
and then I sit there
laughing at cute animal videos…
It’s not that meat itself is evil,
it’s the slaughter that has to happen for that meat.
It’s stamping that pain
into my own cells.
And the fact that,
just to eat meat,
I end up taking part, unwillingly,
but still taking part,
in giving that pain…
that’s what gnaws at me.
But protein is essential.
Isn’t there anyone who can make
a truly good, truly satisfying fake meat?
Or is this just how the human world works
someone always has to be sacrificed, no matter what?
In the end, do all these kinds of hearts,
all these guilty thoughts and tangled feelings,
just gather together
and build the same old world all over again?
What the hell am I supposed to do then.
If labor disappeared,
would I finally be able to quit meat?
Is meat really the only thing
that poisons the mind?
The most harmful things
are desire and obsession.
And maybe worse than that
is not loving myself.
How am I
actually living
right now.
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