As soon as I got home from Seattle, I got sick. Allergy sick, but still. The allergies hit me different than they used to. Less sneezing and such, more swollen throat and fever/chills. Fun stuff. Regardless, I am so happy I went to Seattle. It was exactly what I needed; exactly the right choice.
I got good news today. I don’t have HIV! I get tested constantly. Which is good—a person should. Even when I haven’t done anything, I still get tested. I think it is still that voice inside that recalls being taught that gay=AIDs. Gay men die of AIDs. No matter what I do, I can’t seem to shake that voice in my head. Especially after the months of terror with the old asshole boyfriend—not Chad, obviously. Actually, with Chad, it was the only time I never worried about it. I miss that.
I am always convinced that it is gonna come back positive. Anytime I’m sick, I think that’s what it is. Just like when I was helping my parents move and then again in Seattle when I ached so badly from simply moving and my legs would swell, it all screams HIV! That’s why I got tested yesterday. I couldn’t wait any longer. I had to know. Yesterday, the thought went through my head, ‘just tell me I have already, so I can quite stressing about it all the time—it will be over and done.’ No sooner had the thought formed than I cursed myself and took it back. I have dear friends that are positive, and it doesn’t change them at all in my mind. However, it would change me in my mind. It is such a relief—hello, understatement—when the test comes back negative. I always feel such freedom. I don’t know how people that don’t get tested do it, I hate the test, but I have to know. I always want to know reality, even if it is bad.
So, thank you God for watching over me. I pray one day I can shake that inner voice that tells me its what I deserve. I know so many others like me. Our society has done such a wonderful job of fucking up their young gay men. Thank God not all that was taught to us was correct in that realm either.