Grab a drink.The red: you might recognize that name because my sister derided her as an untrustworthy adult in her twitter tirade of pity that Lev archived. I'll be honest: I don't really know who she is outside of her having always been something of a proxy for communication between our mother and maternal grandmother. I don't even know if she is an "aunt" because she's the mother or the grandmother's sister. I've never talked to her and never will. I highlighted her name to remind you: this is a woman my sister does not trust, and yet she completely reverses that toward the end when she ends our correspondence.The blue: an imgur link to a screenshot of a Facebook search of my name. Deleted for my protection, but the short is that it's a lot easier to find me on Facebook or Google than she is so desperately pretending.The green is a link to a photocopied e-mail she sent to an e-mail address that isn't mine. I don't know to whom it might belong, so I won't share it. The only thing interesting, actually, is the fact that it's photocopied - I can only imagine it was an attempt at evidence for the custody battle, or something, since it merely states "our mother won't let us talk" in varying fashions.The imgur link I didn't delete is a copy of her restraining order against our mother. It doesn't dox me, but if nothing else, it's even more proof that neither this correspondence nor any of what I've posted here on the farms is a con.I responded that her proof of identity was satisfactory, that I'm indeed angry with her, and that said anger is justified. I further add that I don't even know what to say to her, as I always imagined our first exchange of words in fifteen years would be a happy one. I question how she sucks shit as using Google and Facebook yet found the KiwiFarms thread immediately (and at first ignored it, only clandestinely updating her FAQ about being Native American in response).My friend she's referring to is one that I apologized to her for harassing her on her tumblr asks.Have a gander at the red: this is the strongest (and practically only) argument she ever proffered to me in all our correspondences about her being Native American. Believe you me, I pressed her hard about it, and she quickly relented.The green: the first indication that she isn't doing well in life.I respond to her that she's either truly become the dull social justice warrior her tumblr would lead me to believe she is, or she's still intelligent enough to attempt directing the conversation towards positive light-heartedness via inroads with me in an empathetic appeal to placate an opponent. I also respond that she's not an idiot: her deadbeat father has both moral and financial (perhaps to our mother in the form of child support) incentive to deny fathering her, and she knows that.Edit: I deleted her address, even though she was already doxxed early in this thread.The red is massive. I can't overstate it. Recall that everywhere, be it or tumblr, twitter, or in buzzfeed interviews, the "factual narrative" she has put forth is that we were separated in foster care, and. By the way, the grandmother and her moved to North Carlina almost instantaneously. I asked her how she searched the boroughs as a child from another state. She never responded.Like I said, the quest is fiction.The black: I never liked Spyro. I recall playing it but,... That's her reason for writing My Immortal? Really? With the red above and this factoid here, my comparison to thieves of valor seems all the more appropriate. She's attempting to coat less favorable lies with more favorable ones, mixing in the new ones with truth. The facade is breaking.The green: I told her this much repeatedly: there was no way I would imagine a Young Adult Native American author named "Rose" was my sister. She is doing a far better job of convincing herself that finding me was the reason for her authorships than she is convincing me. The last section of green, for the same reason, is just as unlikely. You'll see in the end that that is again, unfortunately, just another fabrication of a mentally ill woman, woven with a small bit of truth to try to placate the brother whose truth is shattering her claim to a modicum of fame.Naturally, I respond that none of this is particularly compelling. In addition to that and the above, I opine "I don't know how I can be forthright about this without hurting your feelings, which seems improper for me to do in our first discussion in 15 years. Quite frankly, however, your tumblr screams of a victim complex. I truly do worry for you. We've both some psychological problems from our youth, I imagine, but yours seem to run much, much deeper, and they seem to command too great a stranglehold on your identity."Re-reading this tripe makes my eyes glaze over, admittedly. I'm likely to eventually falter and forget to censor my name. If any of you spot that, will you please alert me to it?The red: she's responding to a kiwifarms post I directed her to, that I believe was unfortunately lost in the maintenance. I think someone archived it, though.The black: this would be the last of her meek attempts at defending the claim of Native American heritage. The next time we discussed the issue, she would have already deleted the claims from her tumblr, and she would relent on it. She eventually supplies me a picture, by the way, and you'll see that she's very much Caucasian.The green: this is where I, foolishly, I admit, begin to feel sorry for her. It becomes clearer and clearer to me from this point on that she is her own worst enemy, and that enemy was likely crafted by her grandmother to keep her dependent on her. As you'll see in the end, though: even if she's your sister, do not foster a white knight mentality for a lolcow.Again, the claim of my importance to her was merely a defense mechanism.My response is curt, and much to the effect of my colored commentary above.The green: I needn't tell you by this point that this shabby defense is at odds with all that she does publicly, be it her memoir's story or her heritage.The red: I keep alluding to it, but you'll see eventually the irony of this statement when she ends our correspondence.I keep my guard throughout this correspondence, thankfully, aided by her very odd comment that "I bottle my feelings up." Considering that I'd been forthright to her with all my feelings in our correspondence even if I feared they'd hurt her psychologically, I struggled with that sentiment. I could only imagine she was getting that notion from my refusal to lessen the aforesaid guard. This much I say in my response to her.Not much to comment on here. I state that her psychological problems are, perhaps, the reason she's insisting she's Native American, among myriad other things, for attention.She's replying to me telling her that the last words I ever heard from our mother was her swearing to commit suicide if I left, by the way. I could probably omit this one, but for the sake of completion...Much of the same as the above. One final whimper about being Native American (forgot this one), complete with a signature emotional appeal of hers. You can see what I mean about how easily she relented.The sadness was about me not being present to aid her, as a brother, during her academic/emotional troubles.The only thing omitted here is her phone number she gave me. Since she had a prepaid phone, I walked her through using Discord so that I didn't waste her minutes. Like I said, by this point I was feeling sympathy for her (given her life situation).In the phone call, she relented and conceded to my account of virtually everything here. She conceded that she was not Native American. She conceded that the bit about My Immortal being written to "infiltrate the fanfiction community and find her brother" was her publisher's idea. She even conceded that the idea that all her authorships as a Native American "Rose" were to find me was "a bit of bullshit" to try to win me over.She told medespite living in "the middle of nowhere, NC" and being unable to get a local job. I asked her why she never learned how to drive from her grandmother (who has a car and license), and she immediately blamed herself, claiming she'd be "a bit bratty behind the wheel." Mind you, just from conversing in voice with her, I could tell what a demure, inoffensive girl she endeavors to be to others (constantly apologizing, for example).I immediately brought focus to that she was just what our grandmother wanted: a completely dependent person who thought the world of her and would be her company for the rest of her life. This brought a sad silence from her, and I hopefully imagined I was getting through to her. I even thought that I might be able to save my sister by letting her move in with me in the future, teaching her how to drive, renting a room to her, and letting her realize that she's not a hopeless human without her grandmother.We'd then use Discord text instead of e-mail for the rest of our brief correspondence. Here's the picture she sent, by the way:-deleted-It's obvious in hindsight that this was an emotional appeal from a woman whose only means of convincing others, seeking attention, and attaining success is using emotional appeals. However, at the time it partially worked, I am ashamed to say. I offered to e-mail them, but made it clear that I would ask them precisely what the situation was before I did anything else.Igor's my dog.Do forgive the insults. I freely admit that I was upset, and rightfully so, in my opinion.Anyway, notice how her demeanor changes drastically once it becomes clear that the memoir cannot be salvaged.My message to her immediately before her ending our connection that she "sought for all her life" (and was the subject of her very memoir) was no different from what I said to her in our only voice call.Notice also, how "Aunt Loretta" (remember that name? I hardly do) has gone from a disreputable to a reputable source. Notice how she previously mentioned that she'd only care "for my sake" if I were still in contact with our mother. Notice how she gave me no breath with which to respond.This concludes the saga of a lolcow who has only one method about her life: histrionic appeals and sob stories. It is foolish that I, however briefly and partially, began to fall for them myself and felt sympathy for her.This is an excellent reminder: even if the lolcow in question is your sister, you are making yourself vulnerable if you become emotionally invested in them.You all prevented me from becoming the false foundation of a mentally ill family member's fame and money-grabbing memoir just by giving me an ear. For that, I am forever grateful to you, my fellow farmers.She's certainly a victim of our grandmother. That much is evident in all that she did with me and all that she did elsewhere. I would have helped her, but I cannot. The only thing I or anyone else can do is pray that she rights the course of her life on her own somehow.