One Year On From The End Of The World

There's not been an awful lot to say since my last update, yes, I'm still positive, still well, still holding things together. My boyfriend and I used to be so terrified of risking anything for him, now it's become sex talk and masturbatory fantasy that I "Poz him up" but it remains just a dirty thought rather than a deed. I have a feeling it's best that way.

It's a year on from the start of this blog and the end of the world has turned out to be nothing of the thought. At least not yet. I know that at some point I'll need medication, I don't feel any particular sense of dread about this. I'd still not recommend it to anyone, though, the complications for travelling, the complications in relationships, the never quite being able to touch someone you love in that way, the fleeting moments of fear whenever you get a sore throat or an ulcer. It's not a good look on that front, I tell you that, but it's not the hideous looming crisis you might think.

Yes, my results are all over the place - they kind of match with my personality in that respect - although my viral load remains higher than most I've spoken to. There's not much I can really do to change either. I'm not about to become a monk and live in quiet contemplation in the hope that'll help my body recover, nor am I going to give up and become some drugfuck clubkid either. I think there's not a significant difference in prognosis between the martyr and the whore.

It's a disease, not a punishment, after all.