Dear Diary,
July 21st

I should write about how I'm doing. Since my vision went blurry I've been learning to see things in other ways, like by hearing or smelling. Almost thought I heard ghosts last winter, but that turned out to be pressure in my ears from stress. Still, scared me right. Haven't touched the flesh of an animal in months. Okay, hours. I had a couple burgers today, and god alive am I regretting it.

I'm supposed to be, like, twelve years old, right? But I don't sound like it anymore. I've always been "advanced" for my age: reading five grade-levels ahead, amazing test scores. Since quitting meat I don't feel that same sense of belonging, either. Everything's bigger than me, harsher sounds, louder than life. My thoughts are crystal clear, so bad it feels like spoons on glass. Once the migraines passed in spring I just got reading. I've learned so much since then.

For instance, meat is tougher to digest and creates an acidic buildup in the stomach. In the digestive system, bits and pieces can remain for up to a month, rotting in place, feeding bacteria and creating gas. I'm gonna try some lemonade and carrots. Fiber is the most important thing when you make a mistake like this.

I used to think it was a moral thing, like, because you didn't want to hurt the animals. What I didn't realize at the time, that I do now, is that what I was doing was hurting me more than anyone else. Swelling, indigestion, urges and cravings. Violent ones. Once you take that magnifying glass to yourself, you can't un-see what's in there. For me, I didn't like it one bit. C'est la vie, I guess.

It's all coming back now, whether I like it or not. It'll be this way for a day or three. I need to puke.

...

That didn't go well. The sink exploded. I'll talk more later.