When I looked up and saw Cupid with his bow, I knew we were in trouble. I knew that we would fall in love with each other. I knew that I probably will never get out of it. I knew that what ever happens afterward, I will be in deep, deep trouble with it, the potato.
This is a exaggerated imagery of me right now thinking about when I was a little kid and how I probably fell in love of eating potatoes. (Completely fictional)
It was a dark afternoon, I just finished my homework, now playing Minecraft on my old HP. The smog outside was strong, but not as strong as the bitter, tart smell of the potatoes. The house was small, the strong smell of the potatoes made its way from the kitchen to the computer, and right at that moment, I was amazed of how disgusted I felt. Even though it's probably the one millionth time of me smelling the abhorrent smell of these vegetables (yes, I do consider potato a vegetable), but I was still surprised of the actual feeling I felt. Since my grandma started cooking in the kitchen, I've been preparing for this moment to come, however, the preparation is obviously not enough, it is still not possible for me imaging the feeling of the potatoes, and the smell hit me like a bullet and I was striked down to my bed. I covered my nose and all my senses with double, no, triple, layers of blankets. But I still underestimated the power of these potatoes. I was hit so hard that I felt dying even better than standing the smell of the potatoes, the one millionth time I felt the same way. Every time after the smell went away, I always think to myself that that reaction was stupid and irrational, and I need to get use to these feelings and it is not that bad after all. And then come the next time, I could never overcome these fears, the fears of the smells of the potatoes reaching to my senses.
Finally, after about fifteen minutes of me putting my self under triple layers of banket, the moment came. The moment deciding whether I will live or not. Grandma called me with her heavy accent, "Come out to eat, now!" I slowly walked through the doorway, I said to the computer in silent, remember me. As I walked closer and closer to the evil plate, the feeling of disgust got stronger and stronger exponentially. It was harder and harder for me to walk towards it, the lack of happiness spread all over my face. I tried my best to resist the feeling, and sat down, then "relaxed" my head in the chair waiting for my death to come. The plate of boiled beef and potato was right in front of me. Maybe to you, the smell of the beef is definitely stronger than the potatoes, something barely has any smell to it. But to me, no matter how strong the beef was, the potatoes overrode it anyway. I was avoiding the real world, I was avoiding the fact that I will eventually "eat" it somehow. And I know what my grandma is going to say right at this moment, "Get up and eat! I cooked this for you and you are going to eat it, I am not feeding it to the cat again!" By the ordering of my grandma, I got up and faced the the evil plate. I carefully picked all the beef in it and enjoyed it as my last meal before my death. And there it comes, the final moment, the moment of my final death. It is like putting two magnets with the same poles together, it is not possible. But my grandma is definitely gonna try anyways with me and the potatoes. I've gone through many of the same situations in my life and I know if I resist the potatoes right now, she is going to get very very mad. So I carefully picked up the smallest one with my chopstick. Putting it closer and closer to my mouth, my hands were shaking, and I wish I could just throw up and then she wouldn't forced it to me anymore. But I didn't. The potato had to get in my mouth and fill it with the disgusting bitter taste, I just hated it. There are no other words that describe my feeling towards potatoes other than "I HATE IT". Every single chewing was torturing, I tried to speed up the chewing process and just swallow it down my throat. Finally, I was over with the first one, then I looked down at the plate, there were probably more than a million to go. I was exhausted already by the first one, how am I going to do the same thing to every one of them in that evil plate. I "rested" my head on the chair again, thinking how I can avoid eating all of them. Then I saw something in the corner of the room. I looked up and saw Cupid with his bow, I knew we were in trouble. I knew that we would fall in love with each other. I knew that I probably will never get out of it. I knew that what ever happens afterward, I will be in deep, deep trouble with it, the potatoes. I didn't know that I was happy or not. I didn't know whether I want to fall in love with potatoes or not. The only thing that I thought I about was that I am finally going to get over with the fear of potatoes. And I did.
The end of my completely fictional story of how I fell in love with the potato.
I probably have a lot of tense errors in there, so ignore them...
DISCLAIMER: I HAVE NEVER HATED POTATOES IN MY LIFE!!
Jiahua (Tiger) Wang
11 Febuary 2016
