It’s not a dream. It hasn't been for, like, many nights now?

 

I don’t know how long it has been, but I’ve come to a conclusion.

 

Animals are liars.

 

That old pig lied to me: dreams don’t exist. No one gets what they want in this life, and that was something I heard every night with the other animals in the stable at night. If true equality and perfection existed, we’d be able to live on the same grounds as humans and get to move much more than them.

 

That raven also lied to me: paradise doesn’t exist; for many of the same reasons.

 

Why do we animals lie? Are we just trying to be hopelessly optimistic for a future that won’t come? Are we just that depressed? Are we just stupid?

 

Well, I know I’m not. I feel like I’m one of the only ones that understand how the world works.

 

When we die, it seems like we repeat life because I feel I’m living a boring life. It’s just as boring as my last one. 

 

I hate how philosophical I’m becoming.

 

So I eat my grass.

 

I noticed that I’ve become a lot bigger a while back; I’m in my element again. 

 

Maybe, I eat too much. I used to debate not eating so much because I remembered when I used to be some grass after I died. 

 

Would eating grass make me a cannibal? Because if I think about it, I used to be grass, so maybe my true form and destiny is to be grass. 

 

Grass eating grass. 

 

Then why is grass so tasty?

 

I won’t debate it.

 

I go back to eating my grass.

 

But what would happen if I wasn’t eaten by a bull? I would be grass forever.

 

That means I wouldn’t be able to eat grass.

 

I’d just… be there.

 

Grass.

 

It makes me think: was I truly destined to be a bull?

 

Was I initially something different? Did I use to be grass? Did I use to be part of the air? 

 

That must be the case if I saw all those things when I died.

 

If this is not the world of death as I’ve learned from the animals here, then that must mean that I could die again, I think. 

 

Then what would I become? What would become of me?

 

Am I destined to be a bull again?

 

Wait.

 

My head hurts.

 

I eat some grass so I can numb the pain in my head.

 

I start to think.

 

Bulls eat grass. Sheep also eat grass. The cows also eat grass. 

 

What would’ve happened if a bull didn’t eat me when I was grass? If a sheep ate me, would I become a sheep?

 

I’d go from being a bull to a sheep. 

 

By using my intelligence, I think I can realize that the cycle where I went from a bull to a bull can change. I could’ve been so many other different animals.

 

But even when I go back to being a bull, it’s a completely different body.

 

I can die any time today and become anything. 

 

What happens after death looks like an adventure, and I saw a lot of things that I would never see just sitting here and eating grass.

 

I learnt more in death than I did in life. 

 

So, is it right to say that after death, there’s paradise?

 

But wait, I died. I went through all those visions and went back to life.

 

Does death lead to life? Does life lead to death? Are they the same? Is there no end? Is there no beginning? 

 

What am I?

 

I get a headache.

 

So I eat grass.

 

I don’t wish to think about this anymore. It would be better if I had others to talk about this with. I’ve grown fond of the other bulls here, but they suddenly disappeared slowly for some reason.

 

And it was every time a male human always came out of that structure in the distance and dragged them off.

 

I wonder if they got to escape from this boring life of eating and depression. 

 

I see the same male human approaching me now surprisingly. Maybe it’s my time to escape too.

 

Loneliness sucks, and it hurts to think.

 

So I want to be something better and leave this dump. 

 

The man is pulling me, and I notice he has red all over himself. 

 

It kind of looks like blood.

 

So I’m expecting to die. I’m not stupid. I’m smart.

 

But this is simply the fate of all animals, so I accept it.

 

Death is meaningless. Life is meaningless. 

 

So let me be something else.