I remember the day I found out what meat was. I was really young, three years old at most, I was eating chicken noodle soup, and I asked my mom why the soup was named after a bird. When she explained, I spit the soup out and refused to eat it.
Ever since I found out what meat was made of, I knew it was wrong. How can we justify killing innocent animals? How can we justify murder?
We tell ourselves things like, “other animals kill and eat each other.”
“cavemen ate meat, so why shouldn’t we?”
“we need meat to live.” and my personal favorite,
“but bacon…”
Growing up, the adults around me were saying these types of things constantly, and I began to believe them. I started eating meat willingly. For a while, there was a voice in my head telling me that what I was doing was wrong, but as I ignored it, it shrank. Eventually, the voice faded away entirely. …show more content…
October is my favorite month of the year. I love the crisp, frigid air that blows through the colorful leaves. Something about it makes me think more clearly. October is the time when I feel most creative, most curious, and most inspired. I had started questioning a lot of society's morals that past year, and thinking more critically than ever. I realized that when I was little I had been very empathetic towards all animals, I had viewed them all as friends, not some as friends, and some as food. I researched the way animals were being treated on factory farms, I was both horrified and disgusted. I decided that I could no longer justify supporting this awful treatment of animals. Thus, I stopped eating and using animal products and became a