2/19/22

I want to be authentic, vulnerable, completely open.
I thought the internet would be the best place to do it, jump in with both feet.

It turns out, this is actually the safest ‘vulnerable’ place - there is a safety in the anonymity afforded by the screen.
I don’t have to see your face when you read this.
I don’t have to answer your questions.
I don’t have to do anything except shout my experience into the void for myself.

Anyway, here’s my experiences.
*innately a biased and opinionated experience, as is all of ours.

I grew up in a family of 6 at first, and finishing at 11.
Mom. Dad. Brother. Sister. Brother. Me. Sister. Sister. Brother. Brother. Sister.
I have always loved them with a brilliance that stings to look directly at.
I don’t mean that in ‘ooooeee I sure am brilliant’ but ‘when I look inside myself at that love, it blinds me and tears run from my clenched eyes.’

When I came out to my family in 2015, I gained 10 holes punched in my soul.
The thin scraps flitter fluttered away, whipped dancing along with the wind.
I desperately tried to catch them, but they whispered through my fingers, leaving paper cuts that sting in everything I touch.

When I cook, I think of my mother. She floated about the kitchen, graceful assuredness I admired and have pursued off and on.
Anything she touched, she learned and ran with; great confident bounds unhampered by hesitation.
It hurts to make food, but I love it and find enjoyment between the memories that obscure my efforts.
I’m sorry I hid myself from you for so long. It hurts to carry secrets, and it crushed me every day.

When I work on my car, I think of my father. I don’t know how an exhaust really works, and he worked with machines with apparent ease.
I love to watch someone work on something they are an expert in. They don’t have to think; they dance with their work, and it is a hidden beauty in the world.
Thank you for sharing your knowledge with me, you are still waters that run deep. I’m sorry I don’t get to geek out about cars with you.

My oldest brother was at one time my worst enemy, and at others, my best friend. Looking back, I had a lot of similarities in myself I hated.
I’m sorry I didn’t get to know you sooner, and I’m especially sorry for the end.
You have hidden depths of unmatched treasure. Thank you for being my brother and friend.

My older brother was like my dad. He knew automotive in a way I can’t comprehend.
He approaches each one like he’s visiting an old friend. There’s no blank looks, or What Is That? stares.
He wrenches them into shape, and off they go. In all he does, he really cares.
Thank you for being my brother, every time I do car work, I want to rave about it to you.

My oldest sister was sanguine golden grace, a laugh in her eyes and a smile on her face.
She was always so adult, so grown up, I tilted my head back and wondered how I was ever going to match that standard.
Thank you for being my sister, and SO cool. You taught me how to be confident, Love, Drool.

My little sister is a sunbeam, and shines her light on everyone she happens to meet.
She is a brilliant light in so many people’s lives, they huddle around to enjoy the warmth.
Rooftop selfies, bonfire bottoms, no matter what, you’re having fun.
Thank you for being my sister and friend, and helping heal every hurt.
I love you forever and always, you’re my favorite broccoli squirt.

My little sister is tall and slender, a deer that was filled with fire.
I love how fierce she is, she isn’t afraid to say what she thinks, and stand by it.
She is wicked sharp, and deviously clever. Will I underestimate her? Never.
Thank you for being my sister, and my twin with the scope eye.

My little brother seemed to exist so casually. He was The Definition Of Chill, clever and quiet.
Nothing worried him, and his hair was phenomenal. I was so jealous of it, for so long.
Thank you for being my brother and friend, it’s me ur brother, till the very end.

My little brother, the lifelong outcast and we’re surprised he pushed away?
I regret how all of us treated him, and will every single day.
He is mischievous with good intent, he’s finding his flame and I admire the bravery.
I believe in you Benji, you do too. I’m proud of you, Love, yah boi, Drew.

My little sister is a star that fell out of the heavens and landed in our life.
She has the best of our qualities, I admired how she has always been her.
She is rock solidly in her skin, it echoes in her laughter and lights you with joy.
Thank you for being my sister, all your jokes slam.
You have a way with words, who knew? A writing ham!
All my love, Drewski

Every single one is breathtaking, intelligent, and pure.
Thank you for teaching me how to be good, I seek to go forth and do it.

I’m sorry I don’t have you in my life.
I’m sorry I don’t have you, I’m sorry you don’t have me.
I have been so caught up in my own shredded shadows, that I didn’t stop to recognize yours.
You each have a Me shaped hole in your hearts, and I wish every day that I could fill it.
I don’t want you walking about with the same pain that pounds against my chest, fluttering every breath.

I’m sorry I didn’t respect you, I was being the me that I thought myself to be.
So I did Bad Things, because I thought I was a Bad Person.
I was a broken and worthless thing. I didn’t feel worthy of attention, respect, kindness or love.

I am not.
I have fought to be better, clawed and crawled to who I am.
I am always pushing to do better, be better, in all I do.
I’m sorry I hurt you in doing that.

I thought I was a mistake, a smudged ink outline of human that wasn’t supposed to be.
I was adrift for most of my life, never really here. Pounding at the glass, but no one can hear me.
We could have a conversation, but you weren’t able to see me.
There is a ‘me’ you know, but it’s not the entirety of me.

I realized I was different in 4th grade, but it was a dread itch that I stuffed down in my pits.
In 7th grade I was fantasizing about my math teacher and simultaneously in Full Blow Denial.
In 7th grade, the other students realized I was different, even though I wouldn’t admit it. (Thank you, Denial, for carrying me <3)
I realized quickly, the key to survival was to dig a hole as deep as I could, stuff these dangerous, disgusting, dreaded parts of me inside, and then fill it in and clamp it down.
Well, it turns out you CAN’T actually forget about a part of yourself, because it isn’t to be forgotten.
So it would flare up here and there, and I would still see myself as a straight guy that just happens to be into guys and not girls.

Well, fast forward and a lifetime of hating myself wasn’t a healthy lifestyle, nor was it going to be conducive to a Whole Life Without A Surprise Early Ending.
I used to go into the bathroom and stare at myself in the mirror. Contemptuous of the freak that reflected back.
I hated it. Why couldn’t it just be normal? Why wouldn’t this leave? What did I do wrong?
I tried to kill myself by force of will, and when that didn’t work…

I got lucky. I have always been so incredibly lucky, and I will always be thankful for that.
I spotted The Guy in a Costco. I saw him all the way across the warehouse and the world went away. It was just him and I for an eternal second and he walked out of view.
I knew it was him. He was The One For Me. From the second I laid eyes on him, I knew.
I thought “If there was ever the perfect dude, if I had an ideal, it’d be him. He hits all my targets.”
I never talked to him, I couldn’t approach him, I could only look. I caught his name when I whispered through his line once.
Phillip. I had a name. Phillip.
I was a man in a desert and he was a cool glass of water. If I didn’t have him, I would die.
6 or 7 months go by, filled with me lurking about Costco, a shy, scared, stalker.

On the side, I downloaded a dating app to see if he was on it.
He wasn’t, and I scrolled about aimlessly. I ended up chatting with a delightful fellow, but it didn’t feel… right.
Well, in a lot of ways, it didn’t feel ‘right’ but my baseline was severely biased.
Still, we hit it off and planned on meeting up for a date.
I was a wreck. My first actual date? I’d gone on coffee dates before, but that didn’t seem like a proper Sit Down At A Restaurant date.

Two days later, I’m checking the aforementioned dating app and see I have a new message.
PNWGuy : Hey Cutie
I pull up his profile.
Me : PHILLIP!?
PNWGuy : haha do I know you?
Me : ahh let me back up and explain.
Me : See, it’s a funny story

Very quick backstory - I met a girl, calling her M - when I was 18, she was 13.
We met through some chat app and ended up shooting the shit.
She was clever, dry, and depressed. Me too. We really hit it off.
She lived in a different state, so we texted all day, every day.
Over the years, we grew close, she was an adopted little sister, and I her older brother.
She was the first person I came out to, and she… didn’t give a shit.
I remember sitting outside a police station at 12:00 AM wondering if they could contact the police in her city because she wasn’t answering her texts. Her last one was dark, and I was panicking.
I ended up sitting there for half an hour, and then driving home and laying awake in bed. She texted me at 2:00 AM.
M : Haha sorry about that, I was eating pizza and watching movies w/ friends
All this panic and fear evaporated, I was so relieved and delighted.
I didn’t mind she’d not replied, I only minded she was okay.

Ok, now that we’ve established a very important character in my life, let’s rip them out of it.
Her best friend messaged me when I got off work. (We’ll be calling her MBF)
MBF : Hey. I have some serious news. I figured no one else would let you know, so just message me back when you’ve got the chance.
Me : Let’s hear this totally not a scam news.
MBF : I’m serious
MBF : There was a hiking accident this morning with M
Me : Shit, wait what?
Me : I thought you were a different MBF
Me : How bad is it?
MBF : She passed away

I drove aimlessly, I didn’t see the road or remember how I got there, but I ended up at a graveyard.
I sat, alone on a Friday, in a graveyard on a cold stone bench.
My friend and little sister was dead.
I had a date with a guy that wasn’t Phillip tonight.
Phillip was real and he was for me.

I texted my first boyfriend and now ex - we remained good friends.
Ex : No brainer, go out, have fun with the guy, and then go out with Phillip.
Me : I can’t do that, it doesn’t feel right.
Ex : Ok, then break off the date and then go out with Phillip.

It was a good plan, and it’s what I did.
I reached out to the other guy. I explained a good friend had died and I drove home.
M died and I was going to live. I wasn’t going to die without being me.

Phillip and I hit it off immediately, and I moved in with him.
I couldn’t tell my family I was moving in with a guy, I didn’t want to deal with their discomfort as well as my own grief.
Spoiler : I ended up take me out of the deep dark hole and burying that grief in there instead.
I managed to fit an impressive and depressing amount of grief inside.
I was numb, I couldn’t process my feelings, let alone someone else’s.
I was frozen in emotional time, I had to process the queue before I could get to the most recent.

Anyway, I’m at the point I’m ready to be done with writing.
So I am.
tl;dr : read the above
P.S. I’m not going to go back and edit anything, will it read like a wreck? Maybe. Gotta be bad before you be good.

Love,

Drew Theodore Falter (Aliases : Drool, Drew-Ha Stinky-Ha, Drewski, Drooster, Drewbert, Drewsh-bag and more)