May 9, 2012
In 1999 my mother found out you were killing her, and attempting to infect my unborn sister. I was 9 years old at the time. I have lived my whole life in fear of you. The grief was damn near debilitating. Constant worry that my mother was dying. Could die at any time. I didn't understand you. How could my mom be infected with you? I cried myself to sleep many nights. You made me feel horrible. I went through periods where I hated her, even myself. You weren't living in me at the time, so I really didn't worry about you in that sense. Just that you'd be the thing to take my mother. I felt different. Like my home was dirty. My mother was dirty. I was ashamed. A troubled youth. Fast-forward 12 years to April 2012, I find out I'm infected with you. Could have caught you anytime between 2008 and now. I'm scared and worried. Depressed. You have already took your toll. Most of all though, I'm angry. Pissed the fuck off actually. You will not take my life. I will not be ashamed. I will live. I go to the doctor in a few weeks to see how bad you've damaged me so far. From here on out, I'm fighting you. You will no longer have such a tight grip on my life. I'm going to try my hardest to live long enough to see you out of it; my life. My mother is still alive to this day and that gives me hope. I still have a lot to learn and your bullshit to cope with, but I will survive.