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My name is Joyce and that's nice.

1/23/2014

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Picture
I could only be identified by dental records when discovered. Age 40 and alone. My TV was left on for three years following my death. No one knew. No one realized I was gone. You would think someone would have been there for me. Left alone. Not even a picture of my beautiful face in the paper upon discovery. How horrendous. And nobody notices, oh my God I have four sisters and no one even reported me missing!

A body melting into the carpet basically. My life. Really? Does anybody even care to know? Dead 3 whole years before being discovered. If you should see me and I am smiling don't think my smile is for real. I could not imagine dying alone. I had ulcers is all. I should be alive.

But I never wanted to be in the end left alone. I had a decent education, not advanced...middle class. I was at times happy and quite friendly. Soft and quite clear, without a put on. I was trying to get somewhere in life.

I had a responsible job in the treasury once. From the outside, I reminded people of a person they would want to be. In truth, I had no lifetime friends. At my 21st birthday celebration I had no number of friends there of my own, just other people's friends. My mother died when I was 11 at age 41. I had 3 older sisters brought up Caribbean style.  My dad the carpenter, walked with a swagger, a real ladies man. I was not proud of him, wanted no connection really.

When they found my body after 3 years, it appeared I had been wrapping Christmas presents.

"Hi. My name is Joyce and that's nice." A recording of my voice found after death. In life I was quite entertaining and spoken modestly, I was very good at it. I was simply stunning.  I turned heads, celebrities and all. All I ever wanted was someone to want me. Trouble is I never had my own interests. I never had any great plans. My smile is just a frown turned upside down. And if by chance you hear me laughing. I only laugh to fool the crowd.

Did I mention I met Mandela?  Most people thought I was so positive just like him. But we really don't know people do we? The death of my mother had a profound affect on me. I could not understand it. I gave the impression to all that my dad was dead too. I cut myself off from my sisters. I will take those secrets to the grave with me. No pictures. No music. New reasons given. I kept those reasons to myself.

There was a sadness in my life. It affected me, contributed to my character.  I made relationships but only to a certain point. For awhile, I lived in a battered women's shelter. I told no one. We all make bad decisions in our life. Mine were tragic. I do know I was always looking for Mr. Right. In those final days I slept on a lot of couches. Inside I was disturbed.

Once I went into the hospital and I put as my next of kin ...my bank manager. That really sums it up doesn't it?

I was in love once. I even asked him to marry me. I think he refused because with my mocha skin he would have "tinted" children. Oh the thought of being married and having children. I think I was deathly afraid of living the dream, too afraid to just enjoy it. There were demons that wanted me more than life wanted me.

 It was as if I never existed. A story of fiction. A theory. Watch me fall from grace.

By the time anyone cared, I was dead. A true documentary: "Dream of a life."


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    La Detra Joy

    I love being around people. I would rather live falling than break my spirit never trying anything hard. This blog is about trying and retrying life.

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