April 05, 2014
I used to be ok with cilantro, not knowing any better.
Growing up, I was an orphan. We had spaghetti fairly often among other foods. Cilantro was common among the meals. I never knew that food wouldn't have to be terrible. I became belemic because of this.
One day I was adopted. They were a nice couple. They really loved each other, to such an extent that they wouldn't torture each other with cilantro. So my life truly evolved the day I ate a meal without cilantro. Food was suddenly exciting. Being able to eat without hating myself made me more energetic. I had more calories in my diet so it made sense.
But unfortunately, things turned dark. Cilantro had to come into my life again. My adopted family's marriage turned sour. One day, my adopted mother decided to torture my father. She slipped some cilantro into his food. When eating, he just dug in normally. But I knew. I could smell it. I was afraid and I couldn't recognize why, I didn't know what it was, I was confused.
But he didn't know. He ate it. His face turned red. He choked. Then, when running out of oxygen, he fell over, dead. My mother panicked. She called the cops. When they came in, I could tell by their face they could smell the cilantro too. They took one look at my mother asked "Did you cook this meal?" and upon the response arrested her on the spot after a succinct "Sorry kid" to me.
Cilantro ruined my life. I will dedicate my life to destroying cilantro like it destroyed me.