two twenty eight

the journal of a positive person

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Reality Means Reality

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It’s disheartening.  The reality of everyday life.  And when things get stuck in hyper-reality.  It’s hard to remember that things like relationships have feelings.  And there are everyday moments.  People do and don’t get along.  You are still a normal person.  

And you still realize that you can be hurt by someone.  And you push and pull like a rubber band trying to find that right moment.  That right tension of good vs. bad.  And then you realize.  You talk to other people.  Other friends.  And realize, you’re not as awful as you feel.

And then you realize, they feel the same way.  That somehow you’ve become a poison, not just in blood but in personality.  In speech.  You somehow have become someone who is venomous.  And wrong.  Your heart feels heavy.  You feel bad.  And guilty for being – yourself.

And they feel the same way.

You make them feel shitty.  Horrible.  Shitty.  Horrible.  They feel worthless.  How can someone you love be felt so violated.  So used and unwanted.  You’re gifts are showered with undermindedness.  With hidden motive and maliciousness.  You are a bad guy seeping into their happiness.

Even though you are their love.  Their one and only.

You have to cut it loose.  As hard and strong and horrible as it feels.  As much as your heart aches and pains and struggles.  You have to cut it loose.  You have to make yourself feel better – and in the end make them feel better.

And that’s the way of the universe.

And suddenly, reality means reality.  You are just normal.  This is just the regular.  And being positive doesn’t mean anything more than being human.  Or old.  Or young.  Or stupid.  I am.  


I am.


Written by twotwentyeight

July 3, 2008 at 12:45 am

Posted in Relationship

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I was walking Hollywood Blvd. with my straight roommate.  I told him I wanted to get some gay porn for me and S.  We decided to go into a store.  I am usually extremely embarrassed to go in and buy any sort of adult toys, especially ones that clearly state that I am gay.  I was impressed however by my roommate’s clear indifference to going in a store with another guy and buying gay porn.  

He was also much more muscular than I remembered.

As we walked through the store it was set up like a long series of rooms, one door leading to the next.  Each room lead into a labyrinth of books and dvds.  However, as I started to seek out the gay porn section, I soon realized, I couldn’t find it.  There was a straight porn section.  And as I continued to look my roommate was actually S.  He was impressed by a room that was filled by many books.  He told me how he would come into these sorts of stores more often if he had known they were full of books.  I continued on alone, in search for the porn section.  It was as if I really needed it to get off.

I went into a room of porn, walls and walls.  I walked around and as I tried to look at each dvd title, my eyes were blurry.  I was having an extremely frustrating time forcing my eyes to focus on the titles.  I got to a section and saw that it said, NAB.  Which, I read at the time as NAMBLA or the Northern American Man Boy Love Association.  Something, I find incredibly disgusting.  I thought I found something, I pulled it out and it read as a DVD ROM.  Computers.  I was really frustrated. 

I walked into another room and there were cubicles and women with black rimmed glasses typing away, I thought I or they would say something about me being there, about me being in this porn shop looking for gay porn, but they said nothing.

I suggested to my roommate that we should just leave and go to another store as this one was obviously not very good.  As we left, he handed me my pill case that he was holding.  It was empty, but the cap was missing.  I saw it lying on the ground and picked it up. 

Another case of mine fell to the ground and my red pill (the one a day multi-vitamin) fell to the ground.  I started to realize I was in a dream and no matter what I did at this point, I’d never be able to fully grab all my pills.

Another case was on the ground.  And I woke up.

Written by twotwentyeight

June 7, 2008 at 12:31 pm

Posted in Dreams

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S Goes In

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Today, S is getting tested.  He tested before (negative) but now, he’s going to know if being with me has given him – what we now call – high five.  I’m am certain that the choices I made as a younger, more foolish guy, kept me unsafe.  I feel our practices of understanding, safe sex, and logic have and will continue to keep him clean and healthy.

However, there is a moment, where I take breath.  And wonder.  Because, risk is always risk.  If this moment comes.  If – becomes + how I or he should and will act.  

I’m not sure.

Instead, I wait.  And remember that being optimistic is just as important as being rational.  The worst of things are not in results, but in the reaction and consequences of those results.  

Another insecurity I have is – if S is negative.  He now has a clean get away.  An ability to say, I saved myself from disaster and now I can walk away safely.  I doubt this would happen.  There is much strength in our relationship, in our partnership.  But this is a fear.  A hesitation.  A moment to take breath – and wonder.

Is being with me the reward enough to risk your health?

That’s a daunting and rather troubling set of circumstances to be put under, incredibly horrifying and selfish and more than fantastic wonders – I’d rather not deal with.  Or think about.  I just hope for his health.  For his safety, for his happiness.

Between us, we say.  ODAT.  One Day At a Time.

And that’s the best fucking advice, I’ve got.

Written by twotwentyeight

April 23, 2008 at 9:11 am

Posted in Relationship

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Taking The Future (with the Present)

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As things stand now, I’m pretty healthy.  I’ve finished taking all my medications, now I’m down to my single pill a day (well, I take another one for preventing pneumonia & I take a daily multi-vitamin), but it’s just once a day that I have to think about – taking pills.

And the pneumonia pill should go away once my CD4 count goes up a meager 66 points.  

Besides that, I feel asymptomatic.  I have a cold sore, no big deal (just kind of gross and annoying).  My throat feels – great.  My tongue – red and pink and wonderful.  My teeth, never felt cleaner.  Friends I haven’t seen in a while come up to me and tell me how fit I look.  Not trim.  But fit.  

The gym is working out.  

My side effects have practically dissipated.  I do have to follow the rules: no food after 9, pill at 11.  I try to make that a habit.  It’s not a hard one to follow.  It’s now a part of my life.  

This weekend, I was creative again.  I shot some footage, I made myself feel – normal.  Things are falling into normalcy.  Last night, I was faced with the future.  S is contemplating his future.  And the risk he puts himself in by being with me.  

By being intimate.  

We always play safe.  And we don’t even go near things that even remotely sound – unsafe.  We don’t kiss, intimately.  And definitely nothing further than that.  We’ve enjoyed our time – but the tension grows between us to further it…

I love my boy.  My friend.  And my partner.  I want nothing but happiness for him.  But I feel that maybe, we’re looking too far into the future.  Does a relationship like this really sustain itself?  He is a few years younger than me and feels like he wants to cherish his health, his youth.  

He doesn’t want to feel like his putting himself at risk.

Even though, the ways we play and will continue to play will, in my opinion, be safer than driving your car.  “I have to drive my car…” he says.  You’re right.  Risk is a strange thing.  You’re more likely to die in your car than a plane.  

But aren’t more people afraid to fly than drive?

How do you change a perspective from fear to logic?  And, as we discussed last night, is it even a bad thing?  Is it really that big a deal that people are scared to fly?  Or scared of a spider bite?  Or dying of AIDS?  Isn’t it our nature to fear things.

Even with knowledge.  

He knows he could get into an accident.  Break bones.  Paralyze himself.  He knows there is a rare, 1 in millions chance, that he could contract HIV through french kissing.  But to this day, we drive but don’t kiss. And there’s nothing I can do but be patient and grateful.  Eternally grateful that I have a caring, wonderful, beautiful human to call on.  To hold onto.  To call my friend.  My partner.

Intimacy comes in waves.  And now, I play in the shallow waters.  The waves don’t go to high.  A sprinkle.  A dash.  We may float out into the sea but that’s not something I really have to worry about now.  For now, the fresh water against my knees is wonderful.

And I believe things are ever changing.

Written by twotwentyeight

April 14, 2008 at 11:51 am

Posted in Being Scared, Relationship

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telling him

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When I got home from finding out, I didn’t want to be alone.

I asked K, my roommate’s girlfriend, to stay with me. I wasn’t affected. I wasn’t mad. I wasn’t sad. I felt nothing. I had to tell my boyfriend. I had to tell S about what I knew. About the future. So, K needed to go home to grab a few things for the night. She was going to spend the night with me and when she left, I paced the house.

My phone in hand.

I walked from one end of the house to the other, trying to form the words that would spell the end to our blossoming relationship. How do you tell someone that you’ve fucked everything up? Based on a previous self. I’ve changed since this happened to me and just because I’m infected now, doesn’t mean I deserve it now.

I made a mistake a year ago that’s spelling the end to our relationship.

I dialed and waited. He had been so happy. He was stuck out of the country on a job. Unable to see me until the 17th. He was so happy. We gave each other virtual hugs all day. We were sloppy in love and beginning to feel the edge of deep and fulfilling ever after. I was quiet.

“What’s wrong?”

And, with a pre-speech about how I never lied to him. How I never wanted to hurt him. I told him. And things drew quiet. He repeated “oh my god.” He repeated my name. Digging deep into my heart. Tearing it apart. I expected him to hang up. To suddenly shut me out. Think of me as the dirty, horrible person I felt I was.

He just broke down.

I felt his fear. “I’m so scared.” For a moment, he believed maybe he could have infected me. I told him that’s crazy. He wanted to know about my past. How did I get it? “I’m so scared.” He laughed a few times. “I don’t believe it.” He just wanted to get tested. I was silent. Unemotional. “Why are you so calm?” I tried to talk. Or make sense. Or understand why the fuck I wasn’t crying. Or crawling into a ball and hiding. Why I wasn’t just grabbing for a bottle of pills. Why I didn’t feel anything.

We talked for an hour. Mostly rambled. Nothing more than exchanging fear. Me comforting him. Him telling me sorry for reacting this way. How the fuck do you react? He hung up. K came back. We watched American Idol. The results show. I was able to concentrate and laugh. It was as if – nothing was real. My life was normal.

S called back.

I sat on my bed. He had told his manager and was going to get tested in the morning. 9 a.m. I listened to him as he walked through the snow. When he was silent, I could hear it crunch below him. I heard the cars pass. Sometimes, over powering the phone. He was crying. He laughed. He told me that he didn’t understand why I was so quiet.

I didn’t know.

We sat on the phone for another hour or so. Nothing working. I just told him that his life isn’t over, if he’s positive. I remember telling him, “it’s not a death sentence.” He had to take a shower. I went to bed.

K slept in the other room. I sort of used her. Telling her thank you for staying over. I went to bed. I fell asleep quickly. I remember having a dream about using someone’s phone. I tried to check my voice mail and realized that it wasn’t like my iPhone. I remember saying to them, “ah, you don’t have visual voicemail.” They sort of rolled their eyes at me.

I woke up.

It was 6 a.m. S wouldn’t know until for another five hours. I went back to sleep. I woke up again. It was 6:45 a.m. I tried to calculate again when he’d know. I went back to sleep. I woke up again every hour, recalculating how much time it would be.

Finally, I woke up. And got up. It was 9 a.m. He’d know in two hours.

I gathered through a various array of emotions. I wanted him to be safe. To be healthy. I didn’t want him to be burdened with this too. I don’t know how he would have taken it. And then, a part of me. This selfish, horrible part of me wanted him to have it too. If he had it, we could tackle it together. We could bond and stay together. I would be OK. And in someways, my life would remain the same.

He sent me a text message at 11:30.

:: clean. i love you ::

I am alone. And this is my burden.

Written by twotwentyeight

March 1, 2008 at 5:43 am

Posted in Relationship

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