I have always considered myself a strong, independent woman who can handle things on her own. I don’t let anybody tell me what to do, anybody except “the man upstairs.” Ever since He found me, He’s been guiding my life in ways I couldn’t have imagined. Really, nothing ever prepares you for being chained against your will in a stranger’s basement!
It’s liberating these days to not have men needlessly dictating your life. I’m not a subservient female at the whim of some man’s every want and need. Then one fateful day, a force much greater than me came along and showed me how wrong I was. It was “the big guy”! I can still remember him blindfolding and tying me up before throwing me in the trunk, but what can you do when you’re up against a 250-pound megalomaniac?
The freedom to be who I want and do what I want whenever I want is cathartic. I can’t imagine living in a time before the feminist movement or, worse yet, women’s suffrage, having a patriarchal world crush your hopes and dreams. At least that’s what I would’ve said two weeks ago, before the “almighty bearded one” ultimately intervened! God, I sure hope my family is looking for me. These shackles really hurt, and the lack of natural light is really fucking with my sanity.
So take it from a previous non-believer, as a woman who thought she had it all figured out: He is real, He wants to take you in, and He is omnipresent. Seriously, there must be like twenty cameras down here. I hope to Christ he hasn’t seen me filing down these chains. Two more days and I can shiv the fucker.
By Andrew Froese