Heads or Tails!
It is fascinating to me how people take for granted their own lives. Me, having been quite reckless myself many of times can't really judge too much, but I was completely aware of my actions. I was pushing the envelope as close to death as I could, just to feel alive. More-so because I could. However, the comes a time (or a few) when you just want to throttle someone and slap them silly. Especially since said person is throwing away precious borrowed moments for a good taste of old fashion drama and attention.
Now, I cannot presume to understand the mental anguish someone with HIV/AIDS lives with on a daily business. I would be a fool and arrogant to say that I did. We all have our subjects we know more about than others. With the exception of one man, every friend that I have that is HIV positive understands that they are on a timetable. It is its own entity, HIV. Those same people are some of the most amazing people I have ever encountered. They live and fight and educate and encourage. Bad days, yes. But for the most part you can see some amazing examples of what make humans unique in their ability to adapt and persevere.
This one man, my ex, is a train wreck waiting to happen. I mean one of those high speed Euro trains kinda wreck. I knew I shouldn't have dated him, and I had some of the best advice I have ever gotten from someone about dating someone with HIV, and still I dove right in trying to fix him. No regrets of course, I had fun but I did it all for the wrong reasons. I wasn't in love with him, I was in love with the idea of loving someone who is broken. Since I have suffered a whole bunch, I hate seeing others who are suffering. My big flaw is that I try too hard to help. Its a flaw because I sometimes let my normal instincts get clouded. In his case I am trying to be a friend after the fact, and I am seeing now that this most likely will not be able to take place. I don't want to divulge any of the mind games he plays, because that would be...well...third grade of me. However, I am furious at the fact he doesn't take care of himself physically. Piles of coke, pills, crystal, booze. Sometimes a day without eating. Uppers to wake up, downers to sleep. Even more frustrating is the fact that he is completely aware of what he is doing and his reasoning is that he just wants to have fun. Six years into his diagnosis and all he wants to do is just have fun. Is it my place to even get mad at him? It's his life right? What the fuck should I care if he is going sliding into the grave ridden hard and haggard! Maybe because I value his life just as much as I value mine. It is a gift. No matter how hard I have had it, I always wanted to live.
Now, I cannot presume to understand the mental anguish someone with HIV/AIDS lives with on a daily business. I would be a fool and arrogant to say that I did. We all have our subjects we know more about than others. With the exception of one man, every friend that I have that is HIV positive understands that they are on a timetable. It is its own entity, HIV. Those same people are some of the most amazing people I have ever encountered. They live and fight and educate and encourage. Bad days, yes. But for the most part you can see some amazing examples of what make humans unique in their ability to adapt and persevere.
This one man, my ex, is a train wreck waiting to happen. I mean one of those high speed Euro trains kinda wreck. I knew I shouldn't have dated him, and I had some of the best advice I have ever gotten from someone about dating someone with HIV, and still I dove right in trying to fix him. No regrets of course, I had fun but I did it all for the wrong reasons. I wasn't in love with him, I was in love with the idea of loving someone who is broken. Since I have suffered a whole bunch, I hate seeing others who are suffering. My big flaw is that I try too hard to help. Its a flaw because I sometimes let my normal instincts get clouded. In his case I am trying to be a friend after the fact, and I am seeing now that this most likely will not be able to take place. I don't want to divulge any of the mind games he plays, because that would be...well...third grade of me. However, I am furious at the fact he doesn't take care of himself physically. Piles of coke, pills, crystal, booze. Sometimes a day without eating. Uppers to wake up, downers to sleep. Even more frustrating is the fact that he is completely aware of what he is doing and his reasoning is that he just wants to have fun. Six years into his diagnosis and all he wants to do is just have fun. Is it my place to even get mad at him? It's his life right? What the fuck should I care if he is going sliding into the grave ridden hard and haggard! Maybe because I value his life just as much as I value mine. It is a gift. No matter how hard I have had it, I always wanted to live.
posted by Joshua-Myles at 11:43 AM
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