Medusa, Fuck SHIT UP!

First of all, it’ll never be your fault it happened. Heck! You don’t know how it happened. But you cannot blame yourself and you will not blame yourself.

You make sure you tell everyone who is remotely interested in you sexually. Not because you don’t want to be selfish, but because it is the most responsible thing to do. You mention it because if you don’t, it’ll eat you up. It’ll haunt you for a very long time, the rest of your life maybe.

When you kneel, not to pray, but to worship the dick you’ve been opportune to blow, you thank the gods for that one mercy, that one grace to find a dick to love temporarily.

The dick owner has allowed you to pleasure him with your mouth because he sees you as unworthy of being plowed by the tool that meets at the seam of his thighs. He’d said to you, “This is the best I can offer. This is the most you’ll get from anyone.” The tone of his voice instead says, “Be grateful. You are a dirty, filthy animal for letting yourself be infected!”

The tone also says, “Take care of yourself always. Do not put good guys through the pain of being infected by your carelessness.”

Before now, you’ve not had the opportunity to see a dick. You could not even get a dick to suckle on because you understand consent. You understand what deceit is – you’ve lived it. You’re living it and it’ll always be your reality.

You’ve said to yourself, “I don’t have to be a good person to let people know about my health status. I only have to let people know who I really am. Who I am not comfortable being.” You decided to let people in on what you’ve been told should be a secret.

Yes, it is undetectable. You are very religious with the drugs you consume every day. You love yourself so much that you want to live. You want to work, travel, love, and LIVE.

But you get rejected, blocked, and aired because you speak your truth, even though it is never pleasant to do so. You’re anxious, worried you’d be exposed and ridiculed by a community that preaches live and let live.

Before you fell to your knees to suck that dick, you said a little prayer to the universe or whoever cares to listen to you from the big blue sky. Whoever is up there ought to have looked out for you. He ought to have let the cup pass over you. He shouldn’t have let you drink from the cup, on the table He supposedly prepared for you. He should have been doing his job – being God.

I mean, you prayed to him fervently for most of your adult life. You worshipped Him as He’d asked.

Maybe it isn’t His fault too. Maybe you should have taken better care of yourself and not let yourself be infected. But you don’t even know how you contracted it. Before you found out, you were not a sexual person.

You had not even had sex a whole year before that fateful day at the hospital. You don’t know if it was from the salon. Maybe someone used your nail cutter or a razor blade. Maybe and maybes. Maybe you’re destined to live with it from the moment you were expelled from your mother’s womb.

Now you are pushing thirty-seven and nothing seems to have changed.

You’ve been rejected over and again for thirteen years.

Do you want to end it all? Yes!

But would you still like to have random sex? A mind-blowing-soul-crushing-body-exhausting-sex before ending everything? YES!

So you got on the app and everyone turns you down. Like, bitch! You’ve got HIV. What did you think was going to happen?

But fuck every one of them. E V E R Y! S I N G L E! O N E! O F! T H E M!

Fuck them, not because they rejected you, but because you’ve got to keep moving.

What you’ll not do is let their rejection get to you. You will drown every bit of their fear, their rationality. You’ll drown the friendship they offer after saying to you, “I’m sorry, but I’ll pass.”

You’ll stare at their opinions, suggestions, and their “I hope you are doing your bit.”

And you will turn them to stone, Medusa.

You have always done your bit. You will always do your bit.

You will not think you are less than!

They do not want you, and that’s absolutely fine. It is their right to not want what they’re not comfortable with.

But I won’t say someone will appreciate the full spec that you are. What I’ll say is for you to continue living. It’s a lonely road, I know. But I won’t suggest you off yourself. I won’t tell you to keep hoping for someone or something to love you. I’m telling you you’re the best you’ll ever have.

YOU’RE THE BEST YOU’LL EVER HAVE.

You’re not going anywhere. No, no, no, there’s no way you’ll leave here without that understanding.

You’ll stay. You’ll live and you’ll be loved.

By who? I don’t know the answer to that. But you’ll be loved with full intent.

I understand the pain. I know what it means to be anxious and be unloved because there’s a supposed scar you carry with you. But you’ll stay true to yourself and stay true to people interested in you sexually. You’ll turn every of this pain into chess pieces.

And you just have to choose. Deliberately…

To stay sane for you!

You don’t let that little light go out because there’s nothing you’re not worthy of!

YOU’RE THE BEST YOU’LL EVER HAVE!

Fuck shit up, Medusa! Just fuck shit up by living. It really is the only way out.

Written by Vhar