August 17, 2013
I lived in Mexico when I was 6 to around 9. We lived in a nice neighborhood surrounded by thick concrete walls. Although some houses had grassy yards, the space in between the houses was wasteland. The waste land was a flat, sandy, expanse with cactus's growing every couple of meters. Some hot days, a horrible smell would come off of the wasteland, drifting over our wall and engulf the yard. Those days I would have to stay inside because the smell was unbearable. It wasn't until I moved to the US that I tried cilantro. The herb tastes exactly how the wasteland smelled. Both seemed to override my senses with the taste of death and decay. I tried to avoid it, but it wormed itself into all of my favorite foods. One day I even ate a pizza that was loaded with the stuff and had to pretend I suddenly wasn't hungry. Whenever I tell people this story hey think I'm crazy, only my brother understands, he made the exact same connection between the wasteland and cilantro. People think I'm a little bitch for not eating a small green leaf, but that seemingly innocent little leaf is fucking evil. Every time I taste it shudders run down my spine as I remember the tears shed as I longingly stared out of the window, wishing to be outside on the trampoline under a brilliant expanse of blue sky. Fuck you cilantro.