Personal Manifesto

Life is something that many have pondered the meaning of. In my forty years I have done my share of pondering, too. And come to one conclusion, life is not to be pondered, it is simply to be lived. Hard, fast it is your choice, or hard and fast. That was my choice, until I realized how we unintentionally write our future with the things we say and do, today. And I contracted a virus for which there is no cure.
When I decided that I would live my life balls to the wall, as fast and as hard as possible, I knew that it would come with some pain. I figured that I would be a good example for my three sisters to see what not to do, after all, that’s all I had growing up. I decided that I would show them how to walk through life, in pain. I was already dealing with a lot when I made the decision. I never would have believed how hard it would get.
I became addicted to drugs at age 18 behind a pretty girl I was in love with. That took a toll on our relationship and me personally. The addiction last much longer than we did as a couple. I couldn’t teach her a thing a never even tried. I could have made the relationship work but didn’t because I wasn’t mature enough to know that it was up to me. Then I saw that my life was full of pain only now I was almost afflicting it on myself by letting things happen to me that should have never happened. Like being manipulated by a girl.
I was rocking and rolling through my twenties until at age 25 when I was diagnosed with AIDS, not HIV. I said,  “It was the struggle that keeps me alive”, and a friend told me not to say that but I didn’t understand. Then I injured my spine and lost my ability to walk at age 30.
This life has become an exercise in pain. It’s a challenge just to get out of bed in the morning.  Physically, Psychologically, Spiritually, Emotionally. But I do it anyway. I want to be a monument to struggle. A beacon shouting, “You can do this.” My life doesn’t offer many comforts but what I have, I wanted. Illicit drugs were always there when I needed some quick but unfulfilling relief. For years, I wanted to back out and as part of my struggle I cope with daily thoughts of suicide. But then make the decision that I am not gong out by my own hand because of what that would do to the message of my life. What my sisters would learn.
            No matter how hard, no matter how miserable, you must look deep inside yourself and find the necessary strength to go until your number is called. Life is a gift and, at the end, feelings of waste will weigh heavy on your soul. Pity is not something I seek, it is something I lived with for years until I grew passed it. I realized that all the things in my life I set myself up for and harbor no ill will toward anyone for my challenges. So,I am here as a reminder of what you do have, and a reminder, particularly for my sisters that it is not necessary to suffer as their big brother has already taken up that cause. And it would just be rude to steal my thunder.
I write for the cause of the downtrodden and those whom are never heard. The psych patients at hospitals that never actually help them. The people suffering, struggling against a system designed to erase them. Kept in place by a government check and medication that doesn’t cure but keeps them alive as cash cows delivering milk of gold to the pharmaceutical industrial complex. My voice is for the not-so-little people, and the very-little people. And it needs to be heard.