Welcome to my TedTalk.
And yes, I have the receipts.
So, at 5.30am, I stopped my car outside of the corner shop. From my back seat, I could have sworn I heard laughter. The laughter sounded young; adolescent. I decided I must have heard something/someone from outside the vehicle, and as I let my passenger in, my stomach dropped, as I was overcome with a feeling of nausea and dread. “Hello Shana”, she said.
To summarise, the urge to shake my daughter to death and put her in the oven isn’t one that I would like to wear on my sleeve. I constantly have the daydream where I forget her in the car. I keep seeing myself drop her from the bed.
I was told it was despicable and that I was using something as sensitive as pregnancy and the birth of my daughter to make money. 5000 shares later, I feel the need to respond…
“Haai, you know, he married her with two kids and she looked so lekker, now look at her… poor Riyaahd”.
I must have misread the scripture before making the blood-pact with the Lord. I thought it said “Whoever serves me must follow me on Instagram; and where I am, my servant also will be Facebook famous (That's New Testament).
I didn't always fear God. I hated him.
As I sat there, in the dark, I could see a woman standing at the edge of my bed. She was screaming.