Personal Narrative: A Description Of Vegetarian Vernacular

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Vegetarian Vernacular

The soft daylight cautiously showed itself on the floor in patches; the thick curtain muting harsh rays and only allowing the sun’s light to truly show itself in dancing geometric patterns from where the cloth didn’t quite cover the window. The entryway to my room was closed , the windows shut, and the air dry and dusty. An ever evident white noise of a small black fan disclosed the continuous clicking of a computer’s mouse. The internet was a vast place, and one that was certainly easy to get lost in. And lost did I sure get. I had been stuck in the quicksand for so many hours I lost count, truly representing the epitome of the stereotype
“internet kid”. Now I had always been one of an animal lover. My string
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Little did I know this video could change my life. The video started out with a pan of a dog on a dock, most likely belonging to a sailor or a traveler. The animal was gracefully treading the sea water soaked concrete, as expected, but what really caught my eye when the dog stopped in its tracks. Suddenly it was no longer staring, but desperately pawing at the puddle before it. At first I thought this dog was adorable, just having a little fun in the water, but as the splashing continued I began to become concerned with the stability of its mental health. Although, upon closer inspection, I discovered the dog was far from crazy; it wasn’t splashing the water for no reason, it was pawing water onto a drowning fish. The fish was motionless and stagnant showing no sign of anything but pain. This simple act of a dog may seem boring, but to any overthinking-prone teenager’s mind, this was anything but a simple matter. My hunched posture and blank face didn’t aid to my case, perfectly masking the whirring gears processing what I had just seen. In simplest terms, I had just realized that animals may be smarter than we think. If this dog was able to comprehend the idea that the fish …show more content…
The previously sweet, savory smell of a protein packed dinner via beef, now made my stomach twist and turn in disgust. Just then I busted out of my room, a clothespin on my nose and cheeks puffed and red in exasperation. Without the proper context, it was truly a sight for any onlookers. After waddling through the hallways due to my stiff form from incessant bad posture, I had reached the kitchen. The massive effort I was putting into not looking towards what my mom was cooking on the stove had impaired my hearing, so when my accidental bellowing had sent my mom startled back in surprise, I was just as surprised as she was. Now it was evident I was in the midst of her attention. “I don’t like meat anymore” I exclaimed much quieter, childishly pointing to the matter in the pan. My stout mother shrugged in indifference, her beady brown eyes ripping off the sight of me and returning to her task at hand. Her shoulders relaxed slowly when her voice went soft and musical, once starting to go in depth about her own experiences with her lack of vegetarianism.
Mother instinct must have kicked in just then, noticing I wasn’t being attentive in the slightest

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