Here I sit in my life, looking to release the crap and see the good, and I get stuck on an idea difficult to expression and maybe more so to explain in detail.
I find it a horrible thing in my life to so adaptable.
I live in a crap hole, owned by a friend who is not providing the money or supplies as agreed for me to do the work to make it not a crap hole. As such, in the past year, I have adapted to living out of two rooms of a nine room house; using a bathroom on the lower floor that has a four foot hole in the wall; showering in a bathtub that is covered with drop clothes to keep the ripped up walls from rotting; living without a kitchen sink; living with most all of my dishes dirty because I am irritated by having to take them to the bath tub to wash them; dealing with bad insulation, poor windows, and crapping floors; and being so embarrassed to the house as to not invite anyone into my life… Add to this living surrounding by boxes I have never had to unpack for the five years I lived in the studio…
And I am fine.
To be clear, I am not, but yet I am.
Because, wait for it, I’ve adapted to it all. I just get use to things. I got used to chemotherapy; it rolled off of me everyday. I got used to a crappy job that treats me poorly, underpays me and leaves me with less self-worth at the end of the day. I work every day to adapt to living with HIV.
A curious thing: I have never, in over nine years, adapted to taking my HIV meds. I have to remember and think and work and make myself take them every fucking single day…
There are good things, but everything is shadowed by this stuff. I have met and know many many many good men in the world that hold a fair amount of common interests. That said, no one (read: nobody but less than ten people) come to KCMO to visit homosexuals. I live with all the insults of being a fly-over state, even as the people casting them cry against bullying everywhere, right…? Well, I fucking live in KCMO and I have a crappy job that doesn’t afford me to travel to see you, even though I have been pretending to be able to afford such things for years now… I have to stop and take care of myself and take care of my home, or find another one I can afford to take care of… A new job would be nice too…
But I have adapted to every little fucking piece of crap that clings to my life.
So, there. I feel better, but yet I don’t…
I am not always sure that I know how to hate and love myself and my life all in the same moment.
*sigh*
gryphon's hole 