19 years, 5 months, and 21 days ago I met a magic, fortune-telling man. He told me to trust him, so I did. He told me he knew how my life would turn out, with every single possible decision that I may make, he knew every path it could take. He could tell me, he said, or he could let me live it. But not both. It would be a risk I must take. So I took it, and chose life. So he sent me on my way to a strange woman that I must live with. Later, he comes back and tells me that I must love, respect, and honor this woman that I do not know, or else I will die a million deaths that are worse than anything I can imagine. so out of fear, I obey.
Now, for everyday of 19 years, five months, and 21 days I have been with this woman. the magic man told me she would be my best friend, and someone who would love me and that I could love always and unconditionally. We were to support each other, build each other up, and we were to take care of each other. But, things rarely go as they are supposed to, so do not be surprised when I tell you that that is not how things turned out.
If I were an artist, she would rip my best work to shreds. If I were a dancer, she would break every bone in my legs. If I were a singer, she would rip my vocal chords out with her bare hands. If I were a swimmer, she would drown me. If i were a perfectionist, she would make sure everything was always out of order. Whatever I would be, she would find a way to tear me apart.
I am too fat, she tells me. I am too short, she says. Not smart enough. Too irresponsible. Too emotional. Too indifferent. Too this, too that. Not enough this, not enough that.
So I tell her, this woman who is supposed to be my friend, that this is not how people are meant to be treated, and I will be leaving her. She looks at me with a wry smile and reminds me of the magic man. “You can’t,” she says. “Or you will die a million deaths worse than you could ever imagine.”
I scream out for the magic man. “Magic man, why would you let me choose life when you knew it would turn out this way for me? Why would you let me live when I am full of sorrow? You knew this is how it would be? How cold you let me choose this?” He does not reply.
She ties the noose around my neck. She slides the razor up my arm. She pulls the trigger to the gun aimed at my head.
But only I am the one who dies a million terrifying deaths, not her. She can do as she pleases to me, but I still have to love her.
Because God said to Honour Thy Mother.