I am out to my friends. I’ve had amazing friends who’ve stood by me on my journey of getting used to myself… Getting past the denials, locking myself up to cry on the shadows so no soul besides mine would hear. I had an amazing group of friends that have stood by me every step of the way. It feels good being out. I like it. No weight holding me down. My health is stable. Only one hospital stay in the last four months!

I started dating. For the first time. David, saw him twice he wasn’t right and… I couldn’t stand him blowing smoke in my face. Roy and Austin were too focused on hooking up over taking a chance at a long term relationship. I don’t want to screw around. I want to settle down. Fall in love. Be hopeful. Find that partner, a partner in crime. One day have kids. Heck… Marriage may seem archaic but I want it, even if it’s simple. I want a wedding ring on my finger to show off to the world in taken. I dream of this. To have someone there. Always there. Just there for you. Someone that will become your true partner after we learn one another over the years.

A few days ago, I was contacted by a guy named Scott. He was sweet. He has a gentle nature. I think he’s adorable and such a strong person. I like him thus far and I’m getting far too optimistic. But talking to him feels right. He seems to connect to me on some level. I’m at a loss of words around him. He’s genuine… I want that boy. Dammit.

Here’s to the future and hope. I never thought I would one day have a serious boyfriend because I would never find the right person. I think I found the first real contender. I’m so worried I’d screw things up. :/

Nick. < my real name.



Out. Coming Out. These are words that strike fear in me. And these are the very words that strike fear into a great deal of gay men around not only this country, but around the world. A great deal are younger than me, and yet a great deal live in societies that are even worse than mine. It is hard to fathom at times how large our world actually is. We may be a tiny pale little blue dot in the vastness of a great and powerful universe, but, we on the little blue dot is where everything we are is. The sum of everything that made our civilization and everything we’ve ever known has been on this planet, so small compared to the vastness of the universe.

So. About a week ago. I came out to my sister. This was a hard move for me, because I’m actually pretty damn close to my sister. Probably closer to her than any of my siblings… Well the fourteen year old brother and I live in the same house, but he’s still fourteen and is in the xBox live phase where everyone’s a ‘homo’. I’m gonna let him mature a bit more first… Though, my sister instantly was okay with it. She was disgusted by gays a lot in public. But, now her brother’s gay? She seems to be perfectly fine with it. She didn’t have a lot of questions. She’s been supportive, and had actually agreed to take me to my first LGBTQ meetup here. I felt amazing for several days after that. I felt a new high, it felt great. She did ask if anyone else knew, my siblings all do now… And I told her how one of my brothers straight out asked me when I was a teenager and that’s how he found out. I don’t think my sister realizes that this means a great deal to me. She’s one of the few people I love talking to on a regular basis, we share interests, love of plays, broadway… TV shows. Now, being completely open with my sister feels amazing.

So, now two nights ago… I was standing around with my grandmother, I blurted it out. My grandmother was an important milestone to me… Very important. I live with her. She didn’t have a problem with it and her response was basically, “That’s a problem why?” She only has a problem with it, if I would date a girl to cover it up… That makes it good on me. She did tell me not to shy away from girls if I ever have feelings for one… Just in case. Good advice grandma, pretty sure I’m still gay however. So, this made me happy. I then tried to talk to my father, but my father’s attitude when I got anywhere near that subject was he didn’t care and my personal life is my personal life. So… That’s always good, right?

My mother is a different story. Her and her friends were questioning my virginity… Because two of my brothers are teen fathers. I don’t have a kid yet and I’m nearly twenty-four. So they were arguing over it. I was on speaker phone and just yelled I slept with a guy. Hung up. It’s not the entire truth, I broke out in laughter over it, so did my father and my mom’s best friend. My mom didn’t talk to me for a while, now she thinks it’s a joke. She did go on complaining later about a local gay teacher… How she doesn’t want her grandkids in his class. My brother’s girlfriend (mother of his kid) and my brother both agreed on a point and I am proud of what they told my mother, “My son will not hate gays.” They told my mother that bluntly, she was taken aback… This pleased me a bit.

My mother’s a good person, really she is. She tried so hard. She’s been through a lifetime of pain. She raised kids on her own, she was beat when she was a child. She is homophobic, and she puts PHOBIC in homophobic. I found out my biological grandmother is lesbian! Apparently gays used to abuse her really badly as a child… She’s slowly coming around and seeing them more equal as long as they’re not “pushy” to her. But she still coughs “fairy” at guys she thinks is gay. Well, at least she’s coming around.

I want to be more out. I really do want to actually start dating, meet someone… Have a good time. Actually kiss someone. I know, this sounds cheesy. But, I do want it. Badly. I regret I bottled myself up for so long. I wish I hadn’t as a teenager, and just gotten out sooner instead of staying to myself. But, the past is the past… I can’t redo it. If I could, I’d change so much… So freaken much.

Anyways. I have a long way to go. I need to stabilize my health… I have extremely bad news in that department. But, I do want to get off of government aid one day, if my health stabilizes (please do, health). I want to work, be able to have a disposable income so I can go see the world. I want out of my state. I have a lot of wants… One step at a time, I’m guessing.


I sit here in great thought of events that have transpired over the past week. I revitalized this blog. I haven’t forgotten about it, I just felt nothing to write. I had several strokes. I’ve had several issues with my health when everything was looking like it was going to become better. I wanted to become better. I really did. I still do. But, there’s some nagging feeling inside of me saying that I would not.

Anyways, from the thoughts I’ve been in. I’ve had a great deal of support from this blog I have done, and I cannot thank Kate enough for encouraging me to write it. It has allowed me to give a great amount of thought into everything instead of bottling it up. I may cry when I write the posts… Okay, I usually do. I’ll admit that. But, I feel better afterwards and I don’t act out on impulse.

Keith Rhydderch, the name the readers of this blog know me as… I wanted to apologize to everyone. But, I feel I must admit. Keith Rhydderch is not my real name. You see, I’m a great fan of post-by-post role play forums. I love to write a post that is a part of an even bigger story and work over time to create a beautiful story and a rich character. Rhydderch comes from one of my favorite active characters that I have had for over two years now. Keith is my favorite male name in the English language. I had great difficulty with Keith when I was young as I had issues talking, thus is why Keith became a favorite name of mine and I find it a great deal of fun to say.

Alias. This is the title of this post. I’m hiding behind an alias. I feel bad for it, but it stops people I know personally from searching and finding about my life in such detail I’m writing here. When I was talking to Kate when I originally started this blog, the idea of an alias was a great idea as very few people can make the attachment of Keith Rhydderch to my real name. I do dislike my real name to an extent… It’s a common name, yes. But, it was so common in my years that eight kids in my school classes had it, and another few girls had a name that was similar. Way too many with my name, which is why I came to hate it because I was always referred to as and a number.

But, isn’t it funny how you age and grow up… Your name comes to fit you? Names seem to become stereotypes… And these are all intriguing stereotypes and I enjoy them all. I’m slowly coming to like my name more, and heck even my middle name even though half my family seems to have my middle name as their first name.

Alias. This blog, the krhydderch blog is everything I want to scream out at the top of my lungs to the world. This blog is the real me. This blog is not an alias. In fact, it feels like the life I’m living is an alias, hiding the real me which is this blog. I want more, I want so much more out of life. I want to break out of my alias and settle into my life. I dream of moving to a city, more liberal, and more open so I could be open myself and make and forge new friendships which I do desperately need. I would love to have a life working a great job in a city that I love… A city that I could thrive in.

I’m not a high means person. I don’t drink alcohol, because I cannot and I don’t break those doctor rules. I don’t go out on a whim to the theaters each night. I know how to cook for myself. Heck… My diet is actually cheap, because I don’t eat expensive meant all the time… Thankfully my taste for meat is a bit low. Don’t get me wrong, I see nothing wrong with eating meat. I just stopped when I was a child for a while after some recommendations and it stuck as I grew up. My entertainment needs aren’t that expensive either. I could easily live off of low means and be happy. The only thing that’s difficult, the field I want to be in is in an area that is so entirely expensive that it costs a leg and an arm to even locate there.

If I were wealthy, I would love to do what Ellen DeGeneres has her employees do. I would love to travel around the country and meet interesting people that actually need help and spend a day with them to find out what their life’s hardships are. Heck, I’d even make this a blog. But, I’m not rich… So we can dump that image out of the mind.

So. Here I am. I am hiding behind an alias in real life by pretending I’m someone I’m not. But, online… At least on this blog? I am Keith Rhydderch, an alias name that writes about real issues effecting myself.


Once upon a time I had five core friends. People made fun of me all my life. I was the deaf kid. The kid with giant glasses. The kid that looked different. The kid that had no friends. The kid with a crazy mother. The kid that talked funny. I got called names. A lot. I hated myself growing up. I truly did. Why? Other kids. But, in second grade I met a girl named Naomi. She had a hard time talking. She had cystic fibrosis. Soon a normal girl named Katie begun hanging out with us. These were my first two friends that were my age.

The school was impressed with the girl for making friends with me and Naomi. They called mine and her parents in and gave us both awards. For being good people. This pleased me. A lot. I also had other friends, adult friends as a kid. A woman named Dollie, she used to watch me a lot. Owned a dairy, was active, understood me. Always knew how to make me smile. And a neighbor, Wilson. Wilson played games, inspired a fascination for the Internet, challenged me to read, introduced me to Harry Potter, Stargate, Battlestar Galactica… So much more.

So there was five. Me. Naomi. Katie. Wilson. Dollie. When I was twelve I made a new friend, Jessica. Dollie died… Was my first experience with death. Next year? Jessica died… Radiation overdose. Time went on. Katie disappeared, her family won’t talk about it.

Teenager now. I secluded myself. I didn’t want friends. I wanted to be alone, it hurt to be alone. But, I wanted it. I read, stuck to myself. Role played on forums. Nothing coped and helped with the great physical and emotional pain I had. I’ve begun having strokes and chest pains. My mother said I was faking… Bad one came. Rushed out of school on an ambulance. Came back next week to find a girl slamming me against a wall twisting my arm furious at me for disappearing and scaring her, and asked me for my number… That’s how I formally met Dawn.

Few good years minus pain. I loved my friends but I was so afraid I would hurt them. Senior year. Naomi died in March… We were two months. TWO months after a decade of friendship to graduating. Naomi dragged an oxygen tank to school with her. It broke me. Hard. This was the hardest death I dealt with in my life. My grandfather died the same year, he was one of the few people in my life I looked up to and would call a great man. Next year I had surgery, sickest I’ve ever been. My “fake” pains apparently were discovered to be real and an issue.

Twenty. I survived the teen years against incredible odds. I lost Dollie, Katie, Jessica, and Naomi. The original five… I lived. I was supposed to die before them. Young twenties, weak, getting older, no job because of health care issues. Heck… I even stalked Automattic’s jobs pages, but I’m nowhere near as talented enough to work for them or anyone. Other places I liked cost far too much to live there, and I have no support network besides in an area with air so bad that only China rivals us. I just have a lot of medical baggage. Wilson died recently. My friend Dawn hates me because her boyfriend thinks I’m a threat. I have no intention of going after her… This hurts me. But in December 2009, I met an awesome person by chance online named Kate.

To make matters worse… Naomi’s mom called today. Just moments ago. And last week. This hurts. I hate my memory. But, now I’m reminded. I have no real life friends left. The only people I could call friends are Kate… List stops there. Kate called me a great friend. I don’t think Kate will ever realize how much this means to me. Kate brought Cassie whose blog lights me up when I need it. I do have others I’d like to call friends, but I barely talk to them: Heather, Josh, Destiny, Lily, Kesra and it ends there plus a few more. Not much more or less. There are some new people like Taz, Moni, or Jay that are starting to mean a lot to me. But… I never physically met any of them.

I’m in a dilemma. I want to be remembered and do something great in my life… But, I don’t want my passing to cause pain.

I feel horrible. I feel like curling up in a ball and crying. I suffered too much in my life. My life is dictated by worrying about surgery and my heart. I hate this.


I never really had a crush before. Isn’t that odd? I’m almost twenty-four years old and never really had adult experiences such as sex, alcohol or the feeling of having adult friends that I could joke around with.

All my real life friends have pretty much died. There’s one main one left, but she’s gone. My social aspect of my life is nonexistent. I live off of social security. I’m a survivor, I know. But, does it hurt to want more?

You know what? Survivors guilt sucks. I’ve been feeling it all day. I hate having memories of Nay come up. Or the others, Katie. Jessica, Dollie… And I recently lost Mr. Wilson the main male role model in my life. He taught me to be tolerant, taught me to read, helped me learn to talk, encouraged my writing and my fascination with the Internet. His loss… Hurts. The rest still hurt. Why did I survive when I was sicker than the rest of us? But guess what? Besides bad blood imbalances my heart seems strong. But, I feel guilty. What I wouldn’t give to have any of them back. How did I survive?

Anyways. I got my first serious crush. My stomachs been tied in knots for too long to count. My heart flutters when he signs on or sends me a message. I’m really liking this boy. I’m also scared of screwing it all up. I feel guilty that I even had a dream about him. A dream! I rarely even dream! Ugh. He’s so sweet, considerate, loves the same things I do. Gets lost in games… I love this. He even rambles on… I love this even more. A crush? Who would’ve thought? I’m a loyal guy, I’m also monogamous. I dream of meeting someone that is accepting, is a gamer and forum rper, loves life and can make me smile. He fits thus far.

But, I’m also afraid. And lost. I do not have any adult experiences. I still haven’t had my first kiss.

And in three months I’ll be another year older. I want 2013 to be better. Please let it be better. I need it to be better.

How I feel – Kiwi Mad World

Sometimes people ask me how would I describe myself. What animals. Kate found a really awesome shirt that describes me perfectly that I will buy eventually. But, I wanted to give the reason behind it. Kiwi is a flightless bird that desires to fly. A bird that wants to soar, but, cannot due to being flightless. This is exactly how I feel in today’s world. Exactly how I feel.

What If?

I cannot help but to think of the all mighty and important question, what if? It is a question that approaches my mind quite often. I often wonder what my life could have been like. What life could be. Where I would be if circumstances were different for me.

What if I were female? When my mother was first pregnant with me, the doctors actually believed I was going to be a female! Get that! The doctors did believe there might be some trouble with the fetus, due to an abnormal and elevated heart rate. But, set that aside for now. When I was born, I obviously was a boy. My parents were wondering how the doctor missed that fact I was a boy, not a girl. What would my life be like if I were born female? Would I be different in personality? Would I view life differently? I cannot answer this question myself.

What if I never got sick? Within the first few days of my life the doctors told my parents it would be a miracle if I survived. Chances were low. I had a major surgery when I was three weeks old on my intestinal track and stomach. The exact condition I had was called infantile hypertrophic pyloric stenosis. Basically, this only happens in male infants in the early stages of life. The cause is unknown. Children with this have extreme vomiting and it gets worse as time goes on. The symptom is called projectile vomiting for a reason, it is because it is forced. Can you imagine being a parent with this? Seeing your child vomiting constantly and nothing you do can stop it? Children with this become extremely dehydrated, won’t have tears, have trouble gaining weight, constantly hungry and bad colic. I had all of that. So, basically, I was a problem child from day one. Funny enough, this is common in children with Jewish ancestry.

What if by some way I was still born, but, my ancestors never left my home country? I know, likely I won’t be alive, right? But, let’s pretend it can happen for a while. My family line has been traced back a long, long, time. I spent countless hours digging through family records and questioning my grandparents about what they remember. I found a box of funeral statements, etc, and I was successfully able to trace my father’s line down to the 1600s. My mother’s line is extremely difficult because my mother was adopted. But, my father’s line roots from the Scandinavian lands. I believe it was Norway my grandfather said his line hailed from. Though, they lived there a very, very, long time ago, five hundred years is a long time. But, now, today, Norway is a world power and one of the best countries and with a socialist economy. I very much like the idea of a capitalist-socialist country. New technology, motivation, and profit is all good, but, things like healthcare socialized.

If healthcare in the United States were socialized, I would’ve never had to worry about coverage. If I lived in a country like that, I wouldn’t have to worry about coverage. But, now, I must think of the topic: Medical technology. I had some of the best doctors in the world. So, I might have died in a socialist country, not because of lack of coverage, but, because they simply did not have the resources on hand to treat me. One of the diseases I contracted was Kawasaki Disease, cause is unknown but it is believed it is genetic. But, at the time it was unheard of in Europe. So, what if they had been clueless? I would’ve died as a toddler. When I first got it, it was considered an Asian disease and unheard of for a Caucasian to get it. So, make that two things, apparently by genetics I’m an Asian Jew?

What if my heart wasn’t failing? I had a bad heart since I was born. But, it was manageable. I survived the tough years, and if I would’ve made it to around age 7-8, I would’ve been alright and a normal kid that would just have to have regular cardiac appointments. But, fate did not have that. I got Kawasaki Disease. Recently, House did an episode on it, which was really good and pretty accurate. Kawasaki Disease is very rare, and even rarer in non-Asians. Many people say it’s caused by carpet cleaning chemicals, but, this is unproved. There are theories it is wind topography, genetic, or possibly a series of dominoes both genetic and environmental that fall. This condition was discovered late in me, and possibly worsened my heart. Now, my heart is basically, crap. It had repairs, and replacements and my heart’s inside of a plastic ball.

So, what if my heart wasn’t failing? What would life be like if I had a normal heart? Well, I have no clue. But, I cannot help but dream of this. If I were normal, I’d never have been held back. I could’ve played sports. I might had made more friends, a different circle of friends. Not being in the hospital all the time? It was my biggest dream. But, if I was never sick the defining moment of my childhood would’ve never happened: meeting the president of the country through Make-A-Wish. I probably would have never met my original circle of friends, of which now, I’m the only survivor. The rest died.

But, the problem is. Would I have ended up like my brothers? I grew up with two of my seven siblings. These two siblings dropped out of high school. Both been arrested. Both joined gangs. One was a teenage father. One was arrested for attempted murder. The other for armed robbery. Both for drugs, graffiti, and they even became drug dealers. It’s funny, my dad left when we were little. My mom hardly let him see us and shafted him constantly. For as long as I could remember I’ve always been a glass half empty type person. I admire those whom are optimistic and glass half full. They make me smile. But, my brothers were neither. They were the glass was full of air type and in their own worlds.

Would I have become a criminal like my brothers and never finished high school and now with such bad criminal records cannot find a basic minimum wage job before the age twenty? My parents couldn’t afford college, and we were at the magical barrier where financial aid is ruled out, but, yet, parents don’t make enough. But, if I had been normal and showed up at school every day with my personality… Maybe I would’ve been a straight A student and got a scholarship? I could only dream. But, now, I cannot fathom the idea of college. The cost will give me a heart attack.

What if I knew my own sexuality? I know. This question isn’t fair. But, what if? I think I’m gay because it was the only feelings I had ever experienced as a teenager. But, I stopped myself in the tracks. I controlled my own thoughts. I stopped myself from crushing on people. I stopped myself from making friends. I purposely secluded myself because I was sick and lost a good friend and wanted to spare others that. My fault, really. But, what if I’m bisexual? I never really found out, and to this day, I really don’t want to. I dream of one day being married with children, but, if what I have is truly genetic, why would I? Now, if I were straight or bisexual? I don’t think it’d change whom I am. I wouldn’t be motivated by sex. I’m not hormone driven, nor was I as a teenager. I liked being alone. Perhaps I’m really asexual! That’s what I tell my parents… Anyway. I think it would be the same. Perhaps, one day, I’ll have the chance to find out what I am.

Though, I talked to someone recently. She’s married with a husband that loves her. His love for her cannot even be doubted. He’d drop everything for her. If she comes home and wants to watch something on the television, he gives it up. He does anything for her. She controls what they do, what they eat, where they go, and he always has a smile. He says a happy wife is a happy life. He’s content, and happy. He doesn’t make the decisions. This girl was pissed, because he’s too kind, nice, and giving to her. She didn’t like that he didn’t have an “edge”. He doesn’t speak up for himself. She told me he’s been waiting for a movie to come on the television for a few months. He didn’t even ask for the television or change the channel to watch it, because, she was watching one of her favorite television shows. She hated that he missed something he really wanted to do for her. She then started talking about divorcing him. Poor guy. If I were normal and in a relationship with a woman, I’m pretty damn sure I’d be the exact same. I’d let her control it. I’m not a dominant person. I’m not a clever man.

What if I’ve been born rich? Oh, this is a dream. I think life would be different. Never having to worry about money? College, everything, probably would have been clear to me from the first moment. My health wouldn’t be a problem in things. Of course, I’d still have a bad heart… But, with money? I wouldn’t have to worry and be afraid for myself and coverage. But, honestly, if I had the same personality, I’m a very giving person. I would find myself volunteering a lot.

If I didn’t have to work a day in my life because I had money not to? I’d probably travel the world and spend days working with people in lesser situations. Go to community schools in cities that are struggling, help out. Soup kitchens, etc. I have a strong belief in helping those whom struggle. I personally believe we need to work on our own country first before we help another world. My heart goes out to the struggles in Africa, South America, and the Middle East. But, we have problems in our own country and millions of starving. I think we need to help them first before we send these resources to another country.

What if I weren’t American? Don’t get me wrong. I love being an American. As I said above, the disease I had was pretty damn rare. Most doctors couldn’t even spot it back when I was tiny, almost twenty years ago. Today, most doctors know of it. But, putting that aside for now. If I were Canadian and sick? Well, the Canadian system from what I’ve learned from Canadians is pretty damn bad, so, I’d be in the same situation, but, with coverage. I had to wait eight months to get coverage for an “emergency surgery” that I should’ve gotten immediately, in Canada it would’ve been the same. Looking at Britain, it’s the same. Most socialist countries would be the same except for Finland, Norway, and Sweden. It looks like I probably could have had much, much, more potential in those countries in today’s day and age.

I love my country, I just wish things were different. If I ever get on my own two feet with a good job and good health coverage and I don’t have to worry? I’d be pretty damn glad I was American due to the advantages I would have. We have better television, more choices, more resources in entertainment. Though, we do have very slow internet compared to the modern world and an aging infrastructure that badly needs to be updated. That aside, we are the most powerful capitalist nation on this earth. We have more entertainment avenues, more choices, more culture, and we are our own culture. I love being an American, I just wish we had socialized health care, and we would rival the other nations once more.

So, now I wrote this. Maybe I’m better off being that sick kid that the world does not care about? Maybe I’m not. But, what if is not a fair question as one would never know. I swear, if I were an all powerful being with powers that rivaled a god, I would create multiple universes and set events in and be endlessly happy with watching things like what if the Greeks overtook Rome and stuff like that. I’ll write a new post soon, I’m trying to blog more often. I think my next post will be adult experiences but I’m not so sure. We’ll see when I do write more.

What if something in your life was different? Do you think you’d turned out differently?