An ex-friend of mine has HIV, and while we were friends he also was infected with MRSA.
In his ass.
When he was told it was back and he'd be going through a second round of excruciating pain that would linger for a week or more, he texted me the news.
He ended our short virtual conversation with a terse sentence that made me shudder:
"I hate me."
So simple, the raw truth of his life in three syllables.
The entire web of addiction and disease entangling him, the thievery, the betrayals, the lying, the yelling, the police reports—every violence he brought into the world came from this small seed.
His words still echo and haunt, and I hear each one as the heaving of an axe against the old door that kept him from murdering the man he 'loved.'
"I hate me."
We live our lives in such a way that perpetrates a structural violence against certain boys.
Wounding them at the core of their being.
Raping their sexual identity at an early age.
Denying them their spiritual birthright.
This dark gem of a sentence is our reward, the karmic repercussion of choices not chosen.
Over 13 years of working with people living with HIV and offering HIV testing and counseling in our local sex clubs I have heard quite a lot expressed.
I took some of the ones that have stuck with me, and added my ex-friend's syllables, and wove them into this video.
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