Refill

Yesterday, I got a refill on my prescription.  And I got blood drawn.  It’s already been two months of pill popping.  Two whole months of strange and unforseen future.  I’ve been busy.  And worn out.  I’ve felt incredibly healthy and down right miserable.  When I lost my partner, I broke down.  I literally fell out of the shower and cried like a monster.  I cried out into my blanket.  Naked on the cold, hotel bathroom.  I wanted to be home.  I wanted to be in my own bed.  Alone.

Instead, I just had to pretend everything was OK.  After getting back, we worked things out.  I’m in a hesitation now.  I’m in a “no risk” relationship.  Hopefully this will last.  A lot of my friends now, know.  They’ve read this blog (on my own accord) and now, I feel a bit less lonely.  Letting people in, feels good sometimes.  

It’s good to know even when you’re down.  There’s someone there.  There is someone out there who knows how you feel.  That you’re able to reach out your arms and wrap them around someone.  I want to thank all my friends who called and texted, and wrote me.  It means alot.

Next Friday, I’m going to call and get my numbers… I’m hoping they are smaller.  Well, at least the big one.  I want to go from six million little fuckers to – one.  Maybe, that’s a bit of a stretch, but we shall see what happens.  

I’m afraid it could go the other way, my CD4 even lower.  My VL even higher… A vicious angry virus.  Or maybe, hopefully, it is weak.  And this single pill, something I’ve taken 61 times now is all it needed to kick it out of my system.  Or at least put it in a state of retreat.  Like a coward.  

I want my HIV to be a coward.

Being back at home, in a warm bed.  In a warm weather climate.  Going back to the gym, settling into a routine is nice again.  Remembering that life is full of joy and wonder is great.  In a few weeks, I’m going to have an ART WEEK.

Art week will consist of a museum daily.  And then – writing.  Getting all this pent up anger and frustration.  And sadness.  And joy out of me.  I’m not sure what it’s going to be.  It may be a script that I want to shoot, or maybe it’ll just be a short story.  I’m into short stories now (thanks to S).  I’m not sure what it’ll be and I’m not going to corner it into anything but what it wants to be.

My next job may bring me to Hawaii.  That’ll be great.   (except if I see waves).  I hate the ocean.  It’s just so big.  So enormous.  And overwhelming.  Something, I can’t conquer.  And things that I can’t conquer, I fear.  I guess.

I hope to breathe easy next week.  Until then, I’m holding my breath.  (on land).