Writing Myself Out of Hell

Anonymous nonsensical journal entries during a frightful year of wondering about HIV. 22 year old.

Name:

This is the side of me I can't expose with name attached.

Saturday, January 08, 2005

Letter not sent

Dear XXXXXX,

In my personal book of wisdom (it exists in a digital dimension) I keep a short list of people, and beside each name is the reason why that person's name made it to the page. Beside yours, I wrote "laser-guided nuggets of befuddlement-piercing advice." At the last conference, you told us all not to think that we're going to die right away, because it won't happen. It seemed to me to be an very unusual thing to say at such an occasion, and it hit me hard, because for months that is precisely what I had been thinking: I am going to die.

And so I stopped thinking I was going to die, and shortly thereafter I met the XXXXXX. Shortly after that, I got a job with XXXXXX and will XXXXXX.

These experiences are much more enjoyable now that I do not anticipate a certain and oversoon death.

Best regards,

X_Hapless Pencilholder_X

PS: You associate with good people. A former colleague who you might remember, XXXXXX, also made the list for "permeating warmth, thick enough to mobilize anything"

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