The bacon smells much better than it will be. It smells better than it is. It is poison, it is death. Marco tries to convince himself.
He’s been vegan for two years now, and it has worked. He feels better, spiritually, physically, and mentally. He is in a right place now.
He’s not in a good place. If he were in a good place, he would find joy in spending his Sunday with his parents, siblings, and his loud nieces. He wouldn’t roll his eyes at every stupid joke is brother-in-law attempted. He wouldn’t strain his thoughts, wondering why his sister changed so much for the man sitting there, flaunting his thousand dollar wardrobe, shit-eating grin spanning from ear to ear. He wouldn’t be tired of his parents still coddling his fifteen-year-old brother if he were in a good place. If he were in a good place, he would let that go. As it stands though, he is not in a good place. He is in a right place.
He’s not in a happy place. If he were in a happy place, he wouldn’t be jealous of the eggs and the ham… and that bacon… in front of him, piled in bowls and on plates that were made for that purpose alone. He wouldn’t hate not being home alone, reading one of the war novels he’d picked up from the library yesterday, resting from the hard week. His mind wouldn’t wander back through the week, remembering all the unnoticed work he’d done at the lumberyard, all the unappreciated labor his bosses waved off before heading to their golf tournaments. He wouldn’t snap at his mom when asked about how work was going, if he were in a happy place. He’s not. He is in a right place.
He’s not where he needs to be. If he were where he needed to be, he wouldn’t be here. He wouldn’t be staring off into the distance, daydreaming about the rest he could be enjoying, while shoving hash browns and zucchini into his mouth. He would not need the rest. He wouldn’t even have been reachable. His parents’ wouldn’t have had him come for brunch. He’d be too busy living another life. He may have cancer from the processed meats he’d be eating, but that would be alright. He may have had a heart attack from his dangerously high cholesterol, but he wouldn’t be there if he were where he needs to be.
He’s not in a better place. He’s pretty sure that means he’d be dead. So he’s not there.
He’s in a right place. Fuck it. The bacon smells delicious, he’ll have a few pieces.