two twenty eight

the journal of a positive person

two twenty eight

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Today, I found out I am infected with Human Immunodeficiency Virus.

I tested positive. I took one swipe on my upper lip and one swipe to my lower lip with the OraQuick Rapid HIV Test and thirty minutes later, I was sat down –

And told it was reactive.

The test is 99.8% accurate and so I have to come back in one week to be confirmed. To be told, definitively, you are infected – and your life will completely change. Just a few minutes ago, I was laughing with my best friend’s girlfriend in the waiting room. We were gossiping about sex with our boyfriends. It was so casual. So friendly. Sex was this harmless act, both humiliating and embarrassing. Something romantic and silly.

Now it had led to a slow and silent killer.

The shock wore on quickly. Being sat down, he told me it was reactive. Reactive? Did that mean, positive? You mean? What does that mean? What do I do now? I’m going to lose my boyfriend. I have to tell him. Our perfect life is over. The normalcy and safety I felt in being me. In being normal. Being OK with my homosexuality is now gone. I’m now a statistic. An argument for the Right. Gay men get AIDS. I wanted to set a good example for my homosexuality. I wanted to be a positive role model for those around me.

I wanted to be a good person.

And now, I feel – dirty. Humiliated. Disgusting. Ridiculous. A slut. Stupid. Angry. Frustrated. Embarrassed. Disappointed. Sad. Hurt. Sore. I feel every part of my body and wonder if that’s the virus. Is the itch on my back really the beginning of something worse? Do I have a headache because I’m about to feel something worse? Was that cough I had a month ago something worse? How am I going to die now?

How am I going to die?

I’m fucking twenty six years old and now I have a mortality. I’m supposed to live forever. I’m supposed to be the wild one. Who lives on naked wings. Who breathes in death’s cold breath. And laughs. And kicks and punches and defies my own disaster.

No longer.

I own my own mortality. The decisions I make are life decisions.

The future is dark and lonely. And finite. And even though this is true for everyone – I was fucking told today. I was told to my face.

I am going to die.


Written by twotwentyeight

February 28, 2008 at 7:43 pm

Posted in HIV

Tagged with , ,

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