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HIV and AIDS Infected Life Expectancy
HIV and AIDS Infected Life Expectancy.
This article may give some people who are HIV and AIDS infected a ray of hope, but it does not obscure the fact that HIV and AIDS is one of many biogenetic weapons developed in the United States of America as a world population reduction scheme.
Take this article for what it’s worth. I hope that it comforts many of you that are HIV and AIDS positive.
Life Expectancy for People with HIV Continues to Improve
Published on healthline.com
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Getting Older with HIV
Getting older with HIV. Many researchers are proposing a possible cure for HIV by 2020. This is remarkable since HIV and AIDS is a Biogenetics weapon created by the United States for the expressed purpose of killing certain population groups and others that are considered undesirables.
As with any attack weapon a defense weapon (or in the case of a biological agent, an antiviral) is also part of the research and development process of its operational design before any steps are taken for active deployment.
This is to say that the development of an antiviral (cure) for HIV and AIDS was a natural part of the research and development processes as with any weapons systems. Greed and a genuine desire to greatly reduce the Earths human population are the only reasons why HIV and AIDS is still around, as well as several other diseases that have been created or accelerated for money and human reduction.
There are many dastardly things that are being deliberately and systematically done to all of us as well as the only bio-system that humans and the Earths many other life forms can inhabit in various ways and by various means simply for money and power.
If we remain docile, we will be genetically altered into half human beasts and mechanical mechanisms and sheered like a sheep by those who view us as only being money in their pockets, mud puddles to be manipulated and controlled, and mindless laborers.
It is good to be optimistic, but I personally do not expect the cure for HIV and AIDS to be released any time soon by the medical and pharmaceutical industries or the U.S government.
There are natural cures for the HIV and AIDS virus that are being promoted over the Internet if you are brave enough to try them from difficult to validate sources.
Be that as it may, if you are 50 years old or more and have HIV this Washington Post article may give you a few insights concerning aging and living with HIV.
HIV-infected people are living for years, but age-related diseases set in early
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Warriors Against Madness
Warriors against madness. HIV and AIDS are among the many biogenic weapons developed and deployed by the United States of America to attack its citizens and others around the world.
Become a supporter of hiveaid.org and join the fight to end this madness.
We are not sheep ready for the slaughter but human beings that deserve to thrive and live.
Join and support now! Join Us | BestowingLife – Online HIV Free Community Forum (hiveaid.org)
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Happy Goes Nothing
Happy Goes Nothing. All hope of a normal life is lost as the harpoons of death course through the veins multiplying and breeding as they devour and mutate. Yet, there are no tears for the weeper who survives within the stillness of tainted blood that lapping dogs shun.
There are some that say that the cure for the HIV and AIDS virus is here, while others say that the cure for HIV and AIDS is just over there, as those who see no sunlight during the day wallow within the darkness that wishful thinking brings.
Self-pity wants to cover the body like a blanket while anger makes the mind resentful and hateful. But whose fault is it that the monkey caught a cold that developed into a lethal disease that its meat bore, so we are told. And whose fault is it that the eating of this monkey meat passed this ruinous virus to human beings?
Or if not a monkey, it was witch doctors in a well-funded laboratory who cooked up this toxic brew as a method of thinning out the human population to the numbers that they choose. Yes, the poisonous brew stewing in the kettle of death brings fortune to a few and heartbreak and misery to many. But what does any of that matter as life is but a shadow of a shadow of an imaginary shadow that disappears without a whisper.
Happy goes nothing when the blood moon turns into a crystal ball that foretells of a tomorrow that came yesterday. The sheep are herded into a pin and given expensive medications that cure nothing and side effects something that researchers can add to their flow charts of sadness and sorrow.
The prophecies of worlds are dripping from the time capsule of continuance as the blood of the Hiv and Aids infected runs cold and exposed to every form of harmful foreign substance. And who is that considering the protruding lymph nodes that are reflected in the mirror loudly broadcasting their fatal deposits of infection and disease? Is it not the casket that deceives itself as being a living being?
Happy were the days of old. The days long before the cradle of death was conceived and born. In those days, the Stars were very bright, and the many Earth-like planets were teeming with blissful light and life. In a moment, there is something and in the same instant there is nothing. From nothing came something, and from something comes nothing. And so, it is.
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Holding on to that which should be let go of
Holding on. It is easy to allow the things that I have allowed people to do to me in the past to make me hateful and resentful. But I must rise above this. I should not and cannot give them that much control over me. They are assigned to a horrid memory and that is where I should leave them.
It is foolish for me to carry them around with me day after day. I cannot undo my mistakes. Wishing that I had done it differently is a grand waste of time and energy. They are out of sight but not out of mind. I cast my bitterness upon others who have caused me no harm and just want to go about their lives caring less about me.
When I catch, myself falling into this downward spiral of thinking I try to redirect my thoughts onto things that are uplifting and positive. I remind myself that I voluntarily played the fool for them, and that being the case, I should not resent them. Whatever happened to me I did it to myself. They did not force me into behaving unwisely as I took that venture upon myself.
Accepting my responsibility is sound but it does not ease the shame of myself that I feel for being so ridiculous. I get angry when the thought of them pops into my mind, but not so much angry with them as I am with myself.
Life is much too short and much too fragile to be living it in an agitated state. The clear majority of people are not my enemies. The clear majority of people can care none to less about me. In a world of people that are becoming increasingly more afraid of their own shadows, I should be a source of refreshment when met not an amalgamation of the whole. Maturity comes by learning from your living experiences but I now live as if I have learned nothing from the dastardly predicament’s that I unwittingly placed myself in during the past.
I make myself physically ill by holding onto things that should be let go of. I position myself as being unapproachable and my days and nights are alone and friendless because I allow resentments to influence me. I hate being around people and I don’t want to be alone.
I want a sweet darling girl to kiss and hug, to laugh and talk with, to move and shake with, to make the day a blessing for her, myself, and for others. But bitterness concerning my past antics keeps me from reaching out and touching. I feel disgraced and stupid, totally unworthy of a companion. I feel like viciously beating myself with myself until not an atom of me stays intact.
I must get over this. Life does not stand still for anyone. In a moment, the worms and the flies will know my inward parts and any evidence of me will eventually all pass away. I multiply my past foolishness by giving the past dominion of the present. I give the destroyers the thumbs-up to continue haunting me by hanging on to them. I waste fleeting time on something that I cannot change. I know what I must do but to do it successfully on a twenty-four seven eludes me. I hate being this way and I want to change but the memory of my idiocy is like a virus flowing through my veins.
Powers that cleanse and renew, come to me and rinse my mind of the thoughts that impede and restrain me from living my life. Help me to mature and grow, to let go and move forward. Strengthen me in my body, mind, and spirit so that I may reach out and touch and diffuse kindness and caring in my surroundings. This I ask, and this it shall be.
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I Don’t Want to be Alone and Lonely
I Don’t Want to be Alone and Lonely.
Humans are encoded to be social creatures. It is grafted into our genes to have companionship. Preferring solitude is not the norm and this psychological characteristic usually has some underlying motive(s) behind it.
Touching and being touched in a wholesome manner brings out the best in a person. Feeling connected gives a person a sense of being. That being said, there are circumstances where preferring solitude is a sound alternative in order to maintain one’s emotional stability and even one’s health.
It is not attractive to be alone and lonely however this state is far better than living in the constant state of anxiety that being with the wrong companion brings. Existing with an incompatible companion is insanity that leads to a variety of negative consequences. This living environment brings no satisfaction, joy, nor calm into a person’s life.
It is a place where no one honestly wants to be. But it happens, and when it does, run for your life because that is what is a stake. One day leads to another and each day has an array of heartaches, headaches, anguish, and distresses that must be endured.
There is this one particular idiot that I know intimately who has placed himself into this disagreeable predicament more than once. The bizarre thing about him is that he knew full well on each occasion that he was unwittingly heading into quicksand. Knowing this was an error in judgment, instead of avoiding the quicksand, he willingly walked straight into it.
When he began sinking, instead of pulling himself out of the mire, he did everything possible that caused him to sink deeper and quicker.
I cannot fathom what one would call this type of personality because it goes beyond the scope of reason and common sense. It is like a sickness that wants to get sicker and being in the possession of a mindset that is fatally stupid.
After he finally extricated himself from the latest deplorable situation that he placed himself in he reached the conclusion that his best bet is to be alone.
He hates the consequences of solitude but seeing that he has a relentless propensity for chronically making bad choices and decisions he has consigned himself to separation.
I know this dimwit intimately, and I grieve for him, but I feel no sympathy for him because he is getting exactly what he deserves. A fool and his foolishness will reap his foolish rewards, and no one need trouble themselves over him because he is not worthy of the energy that it will take to do this.
Reeling within the turbulent grip of stormy nights and tossed by tempestuous days, it is far better to be alone than to exist in turmoil, confusion, mistrust, and chaos. Misery can find it’s very own company and insanity can hide beneath the bed sheets.
Today is here, and in the twinkling of the eye, today is no more. Peace and rest come to those who look for it and who know how to appreciate it once they find it.
It is hard to be alone and lonely, but a negative alternative is far, far worse than going solo.
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There is No Making Up for It
There is no making up for It. There are certain things that have been said and done in the past that cannot be made up for. I may spend time with the elderly and ailing children. I may volunteer to help the needy and the homeless. I may deprive myself of certain indulgences and luxuries. I may do all of this and more in an attempt to make amends for something that I have said and done in the past. But the past is written and there is no changing it.
Yes, do all of the above mentioned as it is good to be considerate and helpful to others, but do not expect these labors to be an eraser for past deeds. I have said it, or I have done it, or both, and that is the way it is forever. Each day of physical life is its own unique chalkboard that we write for ourselves. We make entries as the day progresses and at the end of the day our log is finished and complete. We can review our log to see what we can gain from it and apply that insight to the next day, but we cannot remove anything from it.
No one is perfect and mistakes will be made. However, there are some things that are said and done that can easily be avoided if my thinking is mature and not restricted to “Me”, “I”, “Mine”, “Myself”, and the like. It is natural to take first thing first, which is me, this is how we not only survive but also excel.
However, we must look at ourselves through the broader canvas of existence that has the panorama of other people, the ecosystem of the Earth, and all of Earth’s many other life forms to be fully mature in our thinking. I said it, or I did it, or both. It’s in the record book of life and cannot be blotted out by remorse nor misplaced good intentions.
I wish that I had not said that. And I wish that I had not done this. So, I will drop the change that I receive at the checkout counter into that donation cup atop it as I leave. This is good as our donations are much needed, but do not consider the misdeeds of the past to be purified by this generous, worthwhile act.
I have touched someone’s life in a negative way either accidentally or purposefully. I have said it, or I have done it, or both. Someone is wearing a physical and emotional scar that I have purposely inflicted upon them. This is my guilt and shame that refuses to leave my thoughts because it is clinched firmly within the solidity of the unchangeable past.
Good deeds will not clean the slate of my past childish behaviors because the past is inalterable. My loss of self-control is a personality deficit that I must learn to live with in a way that does not interfere with my daily life. Hopefully, we have reviewed our chalkboard and have highlighted words and actions that we want to avoid repeating. I conduct this self-evaluation often, and guess what, I do and say the very same things over again.
This vacillating behavior is much more than simply not learning from the past it is a nest of damaged brain cells that desperately needs healing. The heart(mind) is active and willing to make amends for past offenses but the past is uncompromising. The chalkboard of our living is engraved in permanent stone. We have allowed our wrongdoing to mark us with a seal of regrets and ineffective penance. Our afterglow is unbecoming and our nature is pinned against a wobbly cartwheel.
There is no making up for It. Our days are numbered and the count is swiftly running out. We would like to start this reality called physical life all over again with the knowledge and understanding that we have gained from this venture. We would like not to say and not to do the things that we have done in the past during this new birth. But it is likely that we will say and do the same things all over again if given a blank sheet.
We have been measured out and calculated beyond the molecular level. Our very essence has been formulated and numbered to a precision point that gives no fault-tolerance in the equation of what makes us, us. There is no making up for it. We have said it, or we have done it, or both, and that is that. The Monkey is on our back and the banana is in our mouth, so we must learn to live peaceably with them.
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The One Mistake That Canceled a Productive Life for Me
The one mistake. One night, after being in my drug addiction for a few years, I decided to break into a school in Tampa Florida, where I was residing at the time, looking for something that I could steal so that I could buy a hit.
After getting onto the school grounds, I broke into a classroom via one of its windows. Upon entering the classroom, the only thing that I saw that may be of value was a television mounted on the wall. Using a chair, I disconnected the television from its wall mounts without any problem.
With television in hand, I now decided that I did not want to go back through the window with the set, so I opened the classroom door and walked out into the hallway. As I scanned both ends of the hallway I could see cameras mounted in certain spots close to the ceiling.
I knew that I was being recorded but I didn’t care because I figured that I would be long gone before the police arrived on the scene.
I took my time leaving the premises, and not because I was feeling confident, but because I was numb from drug use. I reached one of the gates leading out of the building structure and was met by a security guard with a gun in hand. He was on one side of the gate and I was on the other.
My first instinct was to run, instead, I obeyed his instructions to sit the television down and get face down on the pavement. I did as he told me to do because I just did not feel like running.
Working as a day laborer during the day, using all of my pay to buy my drug of choice, very little sleep and even less to eat, I was in no physical nor mental shape to make a break for it when I encountered that security guard on the other side of the gate. He unlocked the gate and entered, handcuffed me and then told me to stand to my feet.
Once on my feet, he asked me if I had any weapons on me. I told him that I had a small pocketknife in my pocket, which he removed. Soon afterward a police car arrived on the scene, and I was taken to jail.
When I went before the judge and heard my charges it was like I was hearing a recap of one of Jesse James escapades. The security guard had beefed up his report of the incident in such a way as to make himself shine like a determined Texas Ranger who had just captured one of America’s most wanted.
Even so, I was placed on probation and released in the middle of the night. This, of course, was a felony and also the first time that I’d ever been arrested. This one drug driven mistake in judgment now haunts me relentlessly.
Some years later after completing a six months’ drug rehab program I became clean and sober. Thankfully, I have remained clean and sober for more years than I want to admit because at the moment I am age sensitive. Sobriety did not and has not erased that felony from my record.
That one charge has been like a nail driven into the back of my neck each time I have applied for a good-paying job in my field (Computer troubleshooting and repair). It has also kept me in the reject bin on all other non-computer related employment that pays well and jobs that you can feel good about going to every day.
It feels great to be clean and sober. My decision to use drugs changed the entire course of my life in a most unfruitful and unproductive way. My decision to steal has kept me in bondage significantly beyond my original jail sentence.
One bad decision and a lifetime sentence. A criminal record that cannot be expunged lies in wait at the end of every job application to turn my hopes to dust and keep me at the poverty level.
Yet I do not surrender even knowing that I will be refused the employment opportunity once a background check is undertaken. Hoping against hope for some wayward burp in the system that will allow me to prove myself and show that I can be an asset to my employer, I fill out applications hoping for the best and expecting the norm.
The choices that I have made so far in my life have damaged me almost beyond repair. I decided to be a thief and have had so many precious years of my life stolen away from me because of my choice to be that. Days, weeks, months, and years of life do not come with a refund.
There is only one opportunity to make it good within this physical sphere of realities. If you choose to do drugs, if you choose to steal, you must be ready to suffer the consequences of your actions. One way or another you are going to get it.
There is no such thing as getting away scot-free. The life-slayer is right at the other end of a bad choice and decision, and it will rip your hopes, dreams, goals, and future to pieces. Your rap sheet lurks silently in the background waiting for you to make a charge for upward mobility so that it can zoom face-front and deflate you.
But I have done this to myself. I have leaped upon my own neck and have strangled the crap out of my career ambitions and goals. I have created my own stumbling blocks by the choices and decisions that I have made. I have doomed my life to being unfulfilled and a heavy burden upon itself.
I have given the Grim Reaper my flesh and bones considerably beyond the appointed time of my terrestrial demise. I have done this to myself because I would not take command and control of myself but commissioned my life and wellbeing to be grafted by cravings and passions that are earmarked for my absolute destruction.
The end of me is at hand. The custom-built has been broken and slayed by the butchers thinking. The assassin has chosen himself for the next kill. The bullet was shot from the chamber the very instant that the muck and mire was conceived. The murderer has justly murdered himself. Finished. Complete.
Feel free to read my autobiography “Fatally Pathetic: The Story of an Ill-fated Conception” at http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00U7YWVC4
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