A Dose of Truth

On Twitter my user name is LystenClose – and ironically no one ever listens.

I am so damn tired of people saying “oh if only we knew, if only they said something, we had no idea” no you knew, you just didn’t pay attention.

Alot of my life is spent in a cage – moving from one cage to another. I spend every day doing what other people want me to do – I answer their questions I help them I am there for them and at the end of the day the only person I have to count on is me. Do you have any idea how exhausting that is?

This festival is coming up in about 15 hours and I am supposed to be happy and up beat, I will listen to stories of success and failure, I will listen to ppl tell me how someone they know was bullied and killed themselves, or worse…I will do it with a smile on my face because in the last 20 years I learned that if you cant feel it, lie. If you can’t be happy lie to yourself put a smile on your face and the whole world will smile with you.

For the better part of a year I have played the clown online and off and as soon as I show any kind of real emotion, any kind of real pain people back off and walk away.

For the better part of a year I have been fighting not to kill myself. I have been trying to find a reason not to commit suicide, to end it all and to just be free of the pain of always being the shoulder for other people to lean on.

Don’t get me wrong  I love what I do I love helping others, but I am in a cage stuck.

This morning I told my mom I loved her, I was ranting to myself about all the things I had to do and just randomly I threw out an I love you mom and her response was “yeah, you only say that when you want something”.

This is a woman who I have cared for, helped at home and work, worked for, and been there for 100%. Everything she has asked of me I have done – more often than not at her office when shes busy people come to me instead of bugging her to ask questions, to find answers. Every day people at HER work place ask ME for advice or suggestions on how to get something done, because they do not want to hassle her.

She doesn’t see this she doesn’t even notice this. It breaks my heart. She lives in this world where she thinks that I treat her like she has nothing to offer me, when in reality all I want is for her to be proud of the person she raised.

I saw her talk to my brother, (who has NEVER been there for her during any surgery, or to help her to the bathroom – who hasn’t so much as lifted a finger to help her since she got sick) with such respect and wonder why the hell I am such a worthless peice of shit.

Why doesn’t this woman who raised me love me, when I have a family of brothers and sisters are dying to meet me? What did I do that was so damn wrong I am unworthy of being loved.

Tonight I yet again defended a friend against a pack of idiots who would rather defend a girl who cried rape falsely then just say hey dude, you got screwed.

I can understand why some women cry rape when there isn’t any – in this particular case the girl wanted to get laid by a famous anon, and so she drove however many miles to the house of a man she had NEVER met and fucked him – then she cried rape so her boyfriend didn’t find out – and everyone is blaiming the boyfriend? What the hell? why is it his fault? Did he hold a gun to her head and tell her to tell the world that my friend is a rapist? Did he threaten her life in some way that we are all unaware of? is she still with the boyfriend? yes, is my friend still defending himself, yes!

and yet here I am a person of worth, a person who would do anything for anyone and I am alone, and you tell me no one gives a shit about what I think or how I feel? Well yeah no shit dipshit why do you think I want to kill myself. I know I won’t I don’t have it in me but I FEEL it none the less.

I want to die. I do not want to be on this earth any more. I am being honest I hate this planet, I hate the people. I hate how we treat each other and the excuses we make for it, I hate that no matter how hard I try it isn’t good enough – I despise that everyone who says they want to change the world only wants to do so as long as it is easy.

Guess what dipshits, changing the world isn’t easy, its a never ending battle and it takes actual work. Sitting on twitter and wondering why people don’t wake up in the world isn’t going to make people wake up. If you want people to wake up get the fuck off your fat lazy video gaming donut stuffing ass and make them listen to you.

but hey no one gives a fuck what I have to say.

I hate this planet.

I feel some days like im bi-polar, happy one minute and sad the next – but I know that isn’t it. I’m not bi-polar. I just feel too much too hard too fast. Im an Aries. Im passionate about everything I do and I do not know how to turn it off. I know I won’t kill myself, just as I know that tomorrow I’ll get up have a time of my life, and on sunday night I know that the work I am about to do will help at least one person.

Yet….no one gives a shit.


It’s not just a Name

Today I spoke to my sister, for the second time in my life. I am so angry about that. Not angry I spoke to her, I am angry that in thirty years  I have spoken to her twice. There is something very deeply disturbingly wrong about that.

So many things about this crazy weird situation confound me. For starters my mother who should be angry, isn’t. It was her idea to communicate with Keith. I have no interest in doing so, but I know that at some point I need to speak with him – I wish I could look him in the eyes, I also wish I could smack him. So perhaps it just isn’t time yet.

I am angry that I was not gifted with the privaledge of being raised with my siblings, I am angry that I do not share anything more than a nose with them, that I can see anyways.

It isn’t just a name – our names identify us, they give us something to be recognized by. They unite us and in some cases they divide us. None of my siblings share a name with me. We all have different names, different skin tones, even different bone structure.

We share blood and that matters, so much more than I can express, but I feel …detached. Sad and angry but I do not feel connected to them, not as much as I know they want me to. I know they understand, they have all been where I have been, in that I do not feel so alone.

That is the other thing; my whole life I grew up wondering who I was, why I was so different from my brother, I had so many questions about why I don’t fit in with my family. Why when I am around my mothers family my first inclination is to drink so that I have to force myself to keep my mouth shut.

My aunt, a woman I have never met, asked if I had kids and whether or not I was married. The answer is to both.

All this time I thought it was because of the number of times that I had been raped, I thought I had this never ending fear of men that just will not ever go away, and while that is part of it. I realize now there is more to it than that.

I realize looking back now I just never thought I was worthy of being loved. I don’t know if he understands what he has done, the damage he has caused. It isn’t just about the damn name, it is about this deep seeded fear that I held inside so long, that told me I was unworthy of being loved.

He walked away from all of us and never looked back. He didn’t care if we were hungry, sad or scared. He didn’t care if we were happy or healthy. He just did not care.

The others have gotten over their anger, their excited, happy and in some cases thrilled we can finally at some point be reunited. I am and I am not. I am happy they found me. Though as I write this I admit, part of me wonders why they want me in their lives. I know the answer of course. They want me in their lives because I am their sister.

At the same time  I have nothing to offer them, I have nothing of value or worth to give to these people. I am so damned broken. No matter how many times I write it or pretend to be okay I am shattered in side because of all I have seen and been through.

I know how strong I am – don’t get me wrong. I know that everything I have been through has prepared me for anything that life will bring my way, but still inside I am broken.

The others feel – I don’t, I avoid feeling at all cost. I bury it damn deep and ignore it. I lock it away in the secret box within myself and I smile so that I can inspire others, but as I sit here I realize damn near every time I tell someone it gets better I am telling a half truth.

Yes life gets better, but it doesn’t get easier. Life sucks, sometimes it is good and sometimes it is bad – it’s a roller coaster and thats it. You live, you experience you die. In between there are good times and there are bad times, but it isn’t really any different, it is all in how you deal with what life brings you that matters.

You can give in, quit and walk away, kill yourself and be done or you can keep fighting. There is a third less discussed option, you can ignore it.

I don’t “live” I do not “thrive” I ignore life. I see friends, I do events for SNBG, but I would not express myself as a happy person. I would say I am just a person.

I don’t know who I am…..mind you that is why I started this blog, to figure that out isn’t it?! Yet nearly a year later and I still have no real answers as to who I am as a person. How sad is that?

Not all of that is his fault, nor am I saying that I am a victim.

I am thirty years old, the long lost sibling of five other people who live in various parts of the world – I believe in living as if the world where what it should be to show it what it can be, yet I still do not know who I am.

Some days I think I want to be married, to have kids, other days I feel like I just want me and my animals on a ranch somewhere quiet where I can peacefully wait to die.

I do know I do not like this world. It is harsh and it is cruel. It is a work in progress that is for certain but I am not sure how much good that progress has been over the last ten thousand years.

I think humans have failed massively, not only whatever fucked up deity created us, but also each other.

I know that my father, for all intents and purposes has failed me, failed all of us.

Yesterday I told my mom I hope that I am nothing like him, I do not want to be the kind of person who can create six (or any number of ) children and walk away from them all without ever looking back.

I have been told he spends days after days asking the others to speak to me. They all respecting my privacy and being very protective of me, which in of itself is weird but very much appreciated.

I don’t think I have spent this much time thinking about him in my entire life – my emotions are bankrupt because of this man. My whole life I got myself into trouble looking for love in the wrong places trying to replace what he took when he walked away.

I find it strange I haven’t cried much, but I think that in truth some time long ago I just stopped crying because I don’t see the point.

It happens every now and then mind you, but not often.

I remind myself every now and than that “this too shall pass” but..then what?!

What am I supposed to do with these people? how am I supposed to react to all of this? I don’t know.

I hear the phrase “he’s only human” in this particular case, it doesn’t say much for human kind does it?!

I don’t know what is coming next – I am planning to go and visit them, and I fully intend to do that, at least the ones in Canada. I do not know about the others yet.

Just another peice of finding ohna hey?

If there is one thing I can tell you….that I can promise you, its becareful what you wish for, because I promise you – you have no idea what that may bring.




The sisterhood that never was, but could be

The last few days I have been pretty sick – which by the way has nothing to do with why I have not written in months, I haven’t written because I have not had anything to say.

However I do today, armed with a bottle of Proprietor’s Reserve and my music I am ready to put some thoughts out into the universe for examination.

For thirty years – not the better part of – for thirty full years it has been myself, my mother (momma love) and my brother.  I had a nap yesterday because I was really just damn exhausted and sick and I wanted to sleep it away. I woke up to the news that I now have an older brother and two older sisters, as well as two younger sisters. I am a middle child.

Lets go back sya thirty years and I can explain.

Thirty years ago my mother had a relationship with a married man (She at this time did not know he was married) they got pregnant with me before she found out he was married and already had two kids.

Over the last ten years a man we’ll call BB has been searching for me. BB didn’t know my full name nor did he know where I live. Not until his aunt told him my mothers maiden name.

After finding one of my younger sisters, he found me, weirdly enough, via a post I made on Bullyville.com.  From there he found my mother, and then he decided to call my mom at work and ask to get a hold of me. She told him she would talk to me about it.

She did.

-Edit, five hours later-

Now I sit here on my balcony, trying to wrap my head around all this information, and I am not sure how I feel about it. It would make a damn good documentary.

Knowing me, I will in fact try to document it all. Just for …I dunno, so maybe one day I can look back and try to understand. So far I have spoken with the one brother, BB, and his sister, erm my sister, and sent a message to one of the youngest sisters via facebook…there are still two more to communicate with. It feels scary.

For most of my life it has been my brother and myself and mom, now its my brother mom and oh yeah brother and sister(s). They want to know me, to be a part of my life to know who I am and they want me to know who they are, to be a part of their lives.

I have never had a close knit family – I’ve always wanted one but I haven’t ever had one. For a lot of years I felt like Mogli from the jungle book – a human baby raised by wolves – only in my case I was the black baby raised by white people. I don’t know how to be black, and yeah I get many people won’t understand what that means.

I don’t know anything about these family members, other than we share blood, and an absentee father I have no interest in meeting or speaking with. I know that the one sister, just a few years older than I, both hurt our middle fingers on our left hand, I know that we all shared at one point a penchant for fighting and anger, but have cooled our temperaments over the years.

I know that a relationship with these people will come in time – we are all too much alike not to want to get to know each other, to meet each other and try to repair some of the damage that he caused.

I do not call him dad – which is weird, only because over the years I used to refer to him as “my dad” when I spoke about him. Now he is just, Keith, or you know a variation of other rude disturbingly cruel things I won’t post here.

I should be sleeping, SNBG is getting ready for pride tomorrow I should be resting but its one thirteen am and all I can think is, we don’t even share a name.

When he walked away from us – and walk away he did, six fucking times – he stole our right to know each other, to share memories and even share a name. He took that from us. I am so damn angry at him for that, and in a way I suppose, at the universe. In my heart I know that this is another part of the Ohna I have spent so much time looking for. Not the last piece by any stretch of the imagination, but a huge one none the less.

I just don’t even know. I am who I am, but who am I?

I was hoping that I would start to figure that out, now that I am growing up, not old but up, I am figuring out who I am as a person and what my role in the world is. Now though I wonder, “Who am I?”

I know that he doesn’t have any right to know me, but I wonder, do I have a right to know him? To ask questions I know he won’t be able to or care enough to answer? He’s a cab driver, and apparently an amazing carpenter. What else? Do I look like him? I guess if we decide to take a trip to Jamaica I’ll find out.

God damn, its times like these I really wish I had a partner to lean on – someone to hold me close and keep the darkness away because I don’t know if I can handle this all alone – and while many people who read this will say “but hey you aren’t alone, you have all these new siblings’ I still feel so damn alone.

Most everything anyone could ever want to know about me could be found in this blog, I’m not sure if they found it in their search, or how I feel about the fact that they may have – that they know more about me than I do about them. I am just so damn unsure.

But then again, thats what this site is all about…me trying to discover who I am and what makes me me…so here is to finding my ohna.


Syn D.