As soon as we are born, we are thrown right into this sea of foreign red-hot peppery liquid called, Life.
For the first couple of years, this concoction is watered down for us with an extra sprinkle of sweetness. Yummy, yummy. We are loved, cooed at, swaddled and protected. Giving us the illusion, that our future is filled with candied-apple goodness.
We swim through it blindly, trusting that the years spent soaking in this delectable and savory juice, will result in a well marinated promise of happiness.
When it’s good, it’s good.
It tastes like heavenly dreams topped with warm caramel. Sun ripened and ground up. Light on the tongue with a twist of lime. A gluttony of gusto and zest.
A delicacy of sorts, adding to the flavorless and the dull.
Roping us deeper in to the myth.
Before long, we detect the bite. Wait a minute. What is happening?
The sweetness has turned to rawness. There is a kick to this otherwise placid juice. Sweet Mother of Cheeses, our eyes start to water. We choke on our own saliva. Ah! There is a blazing combustible frat party going on right on our tongues. Water! This is not what we expected.
We ignored the warnings on the bottle. We can handle anything, so we thought.
Whoa! It hit us hard. We don’t deserve this, we are good people.
Soon, the inferno has reached the bowels of our souls. Turmoil has taken over our insides. An unforeseen natural disaster attacking our every pore. Darkness, pain and misery. Nothing helps. Nothing soothes.
They don’t call it a cock sauce for nothing.
Miraculously, we weather the storm. We dodge a scorching bullet. We persevere.
We paddle along this ocean of promise with bated breath, hoping to stay afloat.
Keeping the faith that we may be stronger and better equipped to swallow that next piece of hot pepper, when it slips into our mouths.