Skeletons

Transitioning from a warm tropical climate to my heat-filled apartment in New York City, is something only the 1% of the world complains about.

Lately, I’ve found myself in the position to not allow myself to complain, and honestly — I’m not sure if this is good for me — or if I’m slowly transforming into a monk.

I’m most likely not, as I’ve gotten complaints that I am trying to be a purist.

I’m not, I could never be.

My past has more skeletons than a ‘Dia de Muertos’ themed party, aha, just kidding. I should stop making myself sound so horrible, but is it a coincidence that my birthday happens to fall on that day of celebration?

I’d managed to cover over 50 miles worth of hiking in Costa Rica, and suddenly, I became the girl I always had nightmares about: We were driving and I saw cows. They looked so cute and innocent — and then I saw a whole plethora of animals and bugs. I even picked a spider off of MK’s neck (without calling the police or killing it). It was finally dinner time, and the food bully himself, was of course forcing me to chow down his filet mignon.

“It’s just one of those days where I don’t eat meat.”

To shut him up, I had a bite.

And then I realized, at that moment, that I just lost my appetite to eat animals because I kind of liked them. I became that girl, that one that goes to a third world country (where people are starving), and I decided, with my privilege, that I couldn’t eat my friends.

We went snorkeling, I held a blow fish that looked at me with such fear and nervousness. I saw a family of pigs running across a path we were taking. The birds that came to sing for us each morning.

It’s true, that we have domesticated cows and chickens to serve us (it may be too late for them to discover their true fate in our ecosystem). It’s also true that we live in a time where we don’t need meat to survive. But it’s also true that my mind changes every other week — and that I happen to have not so ‘animal-friendly’ coats in my closet.

Again, we are back at skeletons in the closet — and unfortunately, these ones are real dead bodies — that I enjoy wearing.

Then suddenly, in the midst of this blog, I recover a piece of paper that says this:

Leave it up to the universe to remind me of who I truly am, just when I forgot.

Insert: *relieving sigh*

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