He never could eat meat. It wasn't that he didn't want it just, he couldn't keep it down. He always vomits when he was chewing on meat. It wasn't the flavor he said to himself. It's not the texture. It's the feeling I get when I'm eating it. It's like a gaping hole of nothingness I feel. He could keep fruit down, in fact he loved fruit. He'd eat vegetables from time to time, but he always ate fruit. His mother thought it was the texture of fruit that helped him keep it down. If only the meat he ate was softer. His father just thought that his son was being childish, or stubborn. He never understood his son. His son never understood him. The boy wished he was normal, wished that he didn't vomit once he tasted the flavor of a dead, lifeless, animal in his mouth. He'd always think too far into why he couldn't keep it down. Maybe it was because he knew it used to be an animal. Maybe because he knew it used to be a living life form on god's earth. Because it had a family, it was another animal's child. Maybe because it used to be a son like he was. The boy knew he shouldn't have been walking alone at night. He knew all the stories of serial killers, cannibals, monstrous human beings. Devils that walked on the same earth as he did. But he didn't think he just wanted to get home, footsteps echoed behind as he walked at a steady pass. Nothing to worry about he thought himself, but his gut feeling told him there was everything to worry about. He ignored it. He was minding his business. He didn't deserve it. To be slaughtered like a pig. To be gutted like a fish. To be served as someone's next meal. To what it feels like to be just a worthless piece of meat. The feeling of being once a part of a family. The feeling of being someone’s son. The feeling of being once a living life form on god's green earth. The feeling of being an animal. The boy finally realized why he couldn't keep meat down, because it always reminded him of himself. Of what he would be someday. A lifeless piece of meat.
