October 10, 2013
I was innocent before I first ate cilantro. Innocent and pure. The sky was blue, the sun was shining, food was tasty. Then I was corrupted. It was a day like any other. It was lunchtime. I should have had a cheeseburger... oh, if only I had had a cheeseburger! But I was adventurous, I had never known pain or fear. I had a big plate of yummy-looking authentic Mexican cuisine. Fine meat, good veggies, perfect rice and beans. I had no reason to suspect those little green specks. Oh, those little green specks. Shredded evil, scattered about like a foul pox. I lifted the fatal forkful, so appetizing! I took a taste. It was just a couple of seconds before my sweet youth came to an end. There was a pungent odor. It grew stronger, became sharp, then caustic. Then the taste. What is happening to my tongue, my precious tongue? It's burning, burning! I couldn't taste any meat, any good veggies or rice, all I tasted was pain! What had I done to deserve this? I swallowed reflexively... it was inside me! No! I tasted it for hours! Eventually it faded, but... well, I feel that maybe it's still there... cocooned in my gut like a kernel of doubt, of fear. I was never the same. I will never be the same.