I haven't taken my pills in two weeks.I went to my first circuit party recently after starting injectable PrEP. Having the knowledge that I swallowed a pill that morning made hooking up that evening less stressful. But at the time, being fourteen days into taking no medications, I felt exposed. I hadn't considered the psychological transition this would require.After a decade of dedication that rivaled a clingy relationship, it was like breaking free from a habit as ingrained as breathing. Making the switch from daily PrEP pills to injectable PrEP was more than just a routine changeit was like shedding an old boyfriend who had become more of a ball and chain than a comfort.It was an emotional release, a psychic shift, and ultimately, a leap toward a future where I felt liberated.A year after PrEP made its debut into the world, I was dating a man who was living with HIV, and our options for prevention felt limited. Like many, I've never been a fan of condoms as a prevention method; he wasn't either. And like too many still today, I was uninsured. It left me feeling vulnerable and out of the conversation when word of this life-saving drug began to spread.My partner and I both worked as HIV prevention counselors at the time. We knew the potential quality of life this medicine could give us. It could also balance our relationship, ensuring the weight of responsibility was not carried solely by my partner.The only solution I found was because of my boyfriend. One of the rare benefits of being long-distance is that he lived in Houston and found a way for me to access PrEP in his city through his job. I had to make a three-and-a-half-hour drive from Dallas to get my labs done, go home, and anxiously wait two weeks to make the same trip to get my prescription from my provider and the medication filled. And even though the relationship with my boyfriend didn't last, ten years and over 3,000 pills later, something new formed. The daily rhythm of PrEP became an act of self-love, something that stayed constant even when relationships didn't. Men came and went, but my trust in what this medicine could do for me always remained strong. My morning routine was integrated with Truvada and later Descovy, which became indispensable to my life. It felt like a routine at the gym or my morning protein shake. And being surrounded by friends who shared similar routines created a community of accountability. We supported each other through missed doses, insurance changes, and healthcare hurdles, reinforcing our collective resilience against HIV.But I began realizing that in today's world, where life is faster-paced than ever, I may need a prevention strategy that aligns with my evolving lifestyle. I didn't want to be chained down by alarms or have life-altering consequences for a day of forgetfulness. Life comes at you fast and from all directions, and I felt like I was getting slowed down and tangled in the safety net I used to treasure. Enter injectableslike a breath of fresh air in a stuffy room. And, like most bad relationships, your friends see it before you do. My friends had pill fatigue and were tired of the monotony and the exhaustive accountability.The thought of injectables was enticingno more daily reminders, no more pill fatigue. The transition, though, was daunting. I experienced anxiety, wondering if I'd feel less protected without the daily ritual of swallowing a pill. I feared losing that sense of daily protection.Trusting the new therapy was like dating again after a long breakup. I had to learn to trust all over again.I have had to begin shifting my mindset and trusting that I have protection without daily reminders. I have stopped thinking of it as my armor and started thinking of my injectables as a guardian angel, trusting it is there even if I cannot see it. I've begun embracing the time the injectables have given back to me.I wasn't fully aware of the mental load I was carrying around until that weight had been lightened. I can now permit myself to create new routines that give me that same self-care without the anxiety of life-altering consequences if I miss a day. This newfound trust gives me hope for what is still to come in HIV prevention and what the future brings.I look forward to seeing how the science continues to advance when I put my trust in it. I know HIV prevention is on its way to becoming a more generous, symbiotic relationship; all it requires from me is that leap of faith. Jai The Gentleman is the host of the Dear Black Gay Men podcast. Each episode offers a candid, humorous, and always insightful look at life through the lens of Black queer identity. Dear Black Gay Men emerged as Jai's love letter to every hopeful single who yearns for genuine connection and understanding. Voices is dedicated to featuring a wide range of inspiring personal stories and impactful opinions from the LGBTQ+ and Allied community. Visit pride.com/submit to learn more about submission guidelines. We welcome your thoughts and feedback on any of our stories. Email us at voices@equalpride.com. Views expressed in Voices stories are those of the guest writers, columnists and editors, and do not directly represent the views of PRIDE.com or our parent company, equalpride.