The Box

For the few weeks that I've been waiting for my confirmatory result, I have been somehow a bit hopeful.  After all, the rapid test is only 95% accurate so for us optimistic mortals, that remaining five percent is enough to push us to dream that once Pandora's Box is opened again, it would somehow say, please God, non-reactive.

But of course, I have also remained positive that the rapid test was correct.  Looking back at my life, especially the sluttier parts of it,  I couldn't blame the damn result for crying it out loud at my face that I am reactive.  To anyone who actually knows me, it would be more surprising if it says otherwise.  When Ricky Martin confessed today that he's a proud homosexual man, did anyone get surprised?

I had slept with countless men since I was a teenager.  I get dizzy just by trying to remember them all.  I had sex everywhere, anywhere and anytime.  To say that I am a whore is an understatement.  I was even proud of it because I didn't care and because I was such a sad, insecure bitch every time a boyfriend leaves me.  I was very aware of the consequences but every time I'm in the arms of a beautiful man, I forget myself.

Today, I went to open Pandora's Box again.  Honestly, even after a few days of already accepting the fact, I still felt fear, albeit tiny.  But I was more peaceful.  I have already faced and forgave myself and promised not to screw it again this time.  No matter what the final results are, there's always hope and it has always been in the box for anyone brave enough to open it.  

So I opened it, laughed and said, "I know, right?"