𝗟𝗜𝗧𝗘𝗥𝗔𝗥𝗬: "The Boys I fix" by Irish M. Sanchez

Layout by: Charisse Mae Suson Ardeza

Published by: Aprilyn Sado 

Date Published: March 26, 2025

Time Published: 12:33 PM

Category: Prose

Subject: Healing my father in the hearts of other men.

I grew up in a house where anger was louder than words. My father was present, but never really there. It's like having a stranger live with you, only he's not a stranger—he's my father. We share the same blood, the same last name, but nothing else. A man whose face I only recognize when I look at my reflection.

My father has always been a broken man. Not in the obvious sense that one could tell by simply looking at him. He talks, he works, he walks—he is real. But something still feels off, like a puzzle missing its final piece, leaving the whole picture incomplete.

Talking to him was like knocking on a locked door and waiting for someone to answer, only to find that nobody was home. And I spent years trying to pick the lock.

I used to believe that perhaps he might notice me at last if I just made an effort—spoke softer, smiled brighter, reached out more. Maybe he would finally stay.

But he never did. So I stopped trying because I realized that I could never fix him. And yet, the need to make something whole again never stopped haunting me.

So I started fixing other boys instead.

I found them in places where loneliness felt familiar. Boys with tired eyes and wounded hearts, boys who carried their pain in cigarettes, and boys who drowned themselves with alcohol. Boys who reminded me, in pieces, of the man I could never fix. And I made them my responsibility. I patched them up, soothed their wounds, and held them together when they wanted to fall apart. I told myself I was helping, that I was saving them. But deep down, I knew the truth.

I wasn't fixing them for them. I was fixing them for me.

Because broken boys don't stay fixed. They unravel, they leave, and they choose the comfort of their chaos over the safety I offer. And every time, I feel it—that familiar loss. The same one I felt with my father. The same sinking feeling of reaching for an ending that was never written.

But who am I to stop? I see another guy, another mess to tidy up, and another burn that I must care for. Because, despite the pain and exhaustion it causes, I wouldn't know who I would be without them.

Fixing them is the only way I know how to fix my father.


IMAGE SOURCE:

Vi, B. (2025, January 19). Depersonalization. Pinterest. https://pin.it/1W7ptWpc9