come to find out, I'm apparently an addict. and a junkie. oh, and I'm anorexic. plus, I have AIDS. that obviously explains why I am so freaky. and why I am so thin. and why I sometimes look like a spaced-out, scarred up, bloody, malnourished leper. from what he tells me, this is what some people who 'think they know me' (at a distance) have assumed about me for the last few years. it makes me laugh out loud for a moment, knowing how ridiculous and far from fact these assumptions really are. but then it sinks in a little. I look at him and go, "what the fuck???"

he's understanding and open-minded and one of the very best friends a person can have. he knows none of it is true. he even came to my defense every now & then. but I think to myself, why bother? people can believe what they wanna believe. they will, anyway... regardless. I mean, I've had friends who live their lives constantly convincing themselves that what they believe to be true about another is actually true.

whether it is or not.

forget it. 

talk about a useless place for MY time & energy.

truthfully, I don't really give a shit about what others think of me. in fact, he recently said to me, "by the way, 'so and so' hates you." I was all, "really? that's awesome." next subject, please. I live my life my way, according to me, and I don't purposely infringe on others. I fall asleep as me. I 'sleep in my bed' as me. and I wake as me. in other words, I'm the only one I face when the day is done, my eyes are shut, and it's time to face the music. I do my best as a single woman. as a single mom. as one person, alone most of the time, living/dealing/coping/managing my life-as-I-know-it with a lifelong non-contagious autoimmune disease that constantly threatens & often tries to rob me of every motherfucking thing, including my identity, my spirit, my soul. sometimes, it wins. excuse the shit outta me.

I can smell the garlic roasting while I intently watch him sip his wine. "I can't even remember the last time I had wine..." I say, searching the black holes of my mind. "I'm boring. I have no life." I giggle. "You were always naive when it comes to that kinda stuff. but I love that about you." he leans forward, kissing my forehead.  he's known me for over 10 years. and he knows all about my ongoing struggles, especially with my health. "I know all about you. I should know! I lived with you!" he exclaims with a grin, then a long, warm hug.

by ten o'clock, the chicken is so tender that the meat is literally falling off the bone. so I make chicken salad. "tomorrow's lunch is gonna be fucking awesome." I smile, licking the mayo from my fingers. "thanks for letting me do this."

my spirit is feeling strong and nourished, focused and clear, and beautiful again. I whisper to him the secret ingredients of the perfect chicken salad and proceed to make two sandwiches, even though I should be sleeping,  not eating my fucking lunch. we share the goods and I am happy (and satisfied by the look of satisfaction on his face!)

"you liked it! yay!!! successsss!" I cheer. I'm seventeen again, wiping the crumbs from my mouth with my bare hand. he grins. "I thought you didn't care about what other people think, gee?"

I throw my balled-up napkin at him. "shut up. smartass." I wink

"goodnight, sunshine..." he winks back.

xoxo,

gee