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Don't ever give up hope on your dreams
HIV poem
As I think about what I want to be, It doesn't cross my mind, my HIV...
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We may not have a cure, but one thing is sure, we have the right people on the case...
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What Do You See When You Look At Me? Perfectly Planted Sprouted Up to Perfection Beaming in the Sun
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To my sisters of resilience: it's okay to rest. You're still a warrior.
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On the inside, my spirit was broken into pieces | On the outside, I masked it, very well | With a hyper cheerful personality | Faked my way through | But, I saw the light one day
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This is not just a story about illness— it's about intuition. The terrifying silence of being dismissed. And the sacred roar of deciding to save yourself.
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"You have HIV. HIV3 to be exact." That's what they said—HIV3. I didn't even know what that meant... No one explained it. No one softened it.
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It's not what others tell you about yourself; it's what you tell yourself that is important. You mold who you think and believe you are.
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