boys with cooties

Today is November 8, 2016.

Today is my birthday.

I am Twenty-eight years old.

I’ve always thought Eight was my lucky number, given the fact that every major event in my life seems to revolve around that specific digit. I hope I’m right because I really need something to look forward to and if I’m right this year- my Twenty-eighth, should be unforgettable.

I was born November 8, 1988 to a beautiful family near Acapulco Mexico.

It was a complicated birth premonition of a complicated life that would follow.

Son to a beautiful woman both inside and out and a strong, independent, futuristic father.

I was raised with great morals and values. I was told I was special and at very young age I learned that charm could give you anything you wanted. So charming, I became. I was never spoiled, not with materialistic things at least but I was given a lot of love. So much that I grew up needing to feel it constantly. Needing the attention of others.

I grew up confident, loved, and cherished. It was I guess you could say, a perfect up bringing.

At sixteen I told my parents I was gay.

I came out strong and sure of what I wanted. I didn’t want to hide anymore. I didn’t want to spend my life in the shadows. I would not be forced in a closet that seemed to be already too crowded with those that feared the light.

It was hard of course, but like everything in life I got through it. My parents accepted me and we build a better relationship because of it.

I’ve always been boy crazy. Since I can remember boys seemed to be the center of my world. The thrill of them wanting me, secretly flirting with me or giving me the attention i wanted was more than I had ever anticipated.

I had no limits. I was an openly gay teen in a accepting free family and the tenacious fragile lines of life were blurred.

The idea that I could now date freely, who I wanted and when I wanted was a dangerous one. I was right.

Through my teen years I dated, experienced and explore every angle of my sexuality. I had no brakes, I had no remorse no regrets. And so I dated every single opportunity that came my way. I was like a kid at a candy store trying out all the flavors life could offer. I told myself that this was my prime. My time to shine. It was my life, my one and only life, and I intended to live it as intensely as I could.

That was a big mistake.

A month ago at age Twenty-seven, eleven years after coming out, I was admitted to Houston’s Chi St. Joseph Hospital. I had been ill for quite some time now and after much pleading from my friends and family I decided to seek help. I figured it was just another allergy or maybe a bad case of the flu. Life is full of germs and I thought maybe not washing my hands that one time at the bar could have gotten me sick. It was no big deal just a normal check up. I felt strong, healthy and unstoppable. Nothing could go wrong. Nothing ever did. I always got what I wanted and this would be no exception.

On october 8, 2016 I was diagnosed with the HIV virus.

You want to live big, you gotta pay the price.

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