Sometimes I wonder what my younger self would say to the person I am now. That younger self, so self assured and prideful, feministic, intelligent and independent, going to mass every Sunday like the good Catholic girl she was.
What would she think if she saw me now. What would she say to the girl who now salivates at the notion of living under someone’s boot?
Who turned a man into a God and worships him without reserve, without hesitation, and with all of her heart?
Who has gladly renounced the God she grew up knowing, happily deciding she would rather burn in hell for eternity worshipping her one, true God than be reunited in with her family in heaven?
Who has become so devoted and in love and, in the absolute truest sense of the word, addicted to him that it feels as though this is how it will be for the rest of her life?
Would she be horrified or would she know, somewhere deep down, that this is what she was always destined to be?
“No way.”
“Yes!”
“Seriously?”
“Yes.”
“Like… blasphemy-blasphemy?”
“Full on.”
“Holy shit.”
“I know.”
“You haven’t told, like—?”
“Of course I haven’t.”
“So, is he not—?”
“Not so far. It’s been difficult.”
“So we’re, like… fucked, right?”
“Oh, completely.”
“Shit.”
“Yeah.”
“Okay, so, I have a side-question.”
“What?”
“Um… when exactly did we stop going to the gym?”