Settling In

I wonder why I'm feeling an urge to think about other people I know with the virus and compare my angst about it to theirs, as though there's any kind of merit in saying that my infection has upset me any more or less than it has for other people I know. I mean, I have friends for whom it has become the centre of their life, where they make art around the idea of their infection and you can't talk to them for an hour without the topic being brought up one way or another. Equally, I have friends who I can't help but wonder are in denial because they're out doing all kinds of self-destructive things and perhaps are literally running themselves into the ground.

It's been three months, just one season that's shifted from late summer to a definite autumn and I think on the whole I am pleased with how my thoughts have mellowed on the whole issue of being infected. It might just be that now I'm talking about it less that it sits less on my mind, but it has become something of a joke between my partner and me. If, say, I have a headache, we blame the AIDS. If he stubs his toe, it's the AIDS.

It's not some sword of Damocles hovering over our heads, waiting to fall and slay us both, but it's the knowledge that at some point in the future, we're going to step out into the road and be hit by a bus. Until we're actually ill with this thing, it's hard to know what to do about it.