So, I've got a bit of a problem. In the past couple of weeks I've noticed there is... almost a community of disparate people and entities trying to create a narrative of my entire life. Like, in some cases, they've been trying to make a biography-type thing. In other cases, they're a little bit "closer to home" and giving their own account of events. And I want to be upfront as I can - I have no problems with people trying to do this, at least in general. A lot of people have been looking into stuff that I posted when I was Brovania in the 2000's, like the "Today I Learned Pluto Was a Planet" document, and fair's fair. I did post it to the internet myself. It should be noted that 15 years later, I can't always guarentee that my version of events was 100 percent accurate, if there were exaggerations, or I was using words in weird ways as I have a propensity to do. Beyond that though, there have been people who have an "excessive interest" to the point of doing things like browsing Facebook feeds of my friends and family, which I can't exactly abide by. Yes, it's "public", but not really. Honestly, though, one of the most fascinating experiences I've had as a content producer on the internet was watching the people on Kiwifarms put together a family tree of me, and have some of it being like shockingly correct. And other parts shockingly wrong.
I guess there's a fascination. I'm not going to say that I haven't had an interesting life or that I'm not an interesting person. There is a reason I have an audience. But I've noticed there's some misinformation mixed in with the facts, and a lot of it comes from a couple of particular sources. So, maybe against my better judgement, I thought that I'd level. This will be the story of my life, in plain text. As much as I'm willing to let forward. I'm not going to dox myself, and I'll keep certain people anonymous, etc. You can find that information if you look, but as a request, I'd ask you to not go snooping into what I keep hidden. And the other reason as to why I'm doing this will become apparent rather quickly.
Keep in mind, there are aspects of my life that get dark, so... warnings on display.
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My name is Johnathan Rozanski, better known as "The Mysterious Mr. Enter." Since 2015, my public signature essentially has been "Johnathan 'Enter' Rozanski'". I make content on the internet, and that is fascinating to some people, apparently.
I was born on July 21st, 1992 in the city of Springfield, Massachusetts where I spent the majority of my childhood. My parents were Jennifer Rozanski, and Keith Rauh. Both names were made public by my father, and he's a large reason why I believe doing this is necessary. So, when people did try to come up with a family history of me, one thing that I guess tripped them up is that I use my mother's maiden name, and not my father's last name.
Why? In late 1991, when I was conceived, my mother was 15 years old, 16 when I was born. Keith was 18 when I was conceived, 19 when I was born. This was and is a crime in the state of Massachusetts, where the age of consent is 16 minimum. And all of that would be bad enough, but he had left my mother before I was born. And we'll be talking quite a bit about him for the first leg of my life.
This is something that I never had an inkling to make public, but he beat me to the punch. Shortly after my mother died in 2021, he started writing a series of books/memoirs that go into weird tangents about gorilla demons, cyberstalking me, and hating his sister-in-law, but are mostly about how he and my mother were and are "true lovers" even beyond the grave. There are four of them, and a fifth that's a compilation of the first four. And I'll have quotes verbatim as is relevant. Also, he's a terrible writer, so the typos are his, not mine.
"We decided to head back to my house, and on our way, we heard a couple of girls, trying to get our attention, and they sure did." "We were young, and I remember her telling us, we had to be quiet or her parents would hear, and they would get in trouble." "We had a whirl wind romance from the very start, and we both fell deeply in love." "I don't know why, still to this day, but something inside me, said runaway, and run like hell. This was right before, my first son was born, and I was gone with the wind. I have discovered things about myself, like having Asperger's syndrome, that may have contributed to this. I didn't know at the time, and didn't figure it out, till my mid-40s, but I can't say, if that contributed to it, or not, or if I was just scared as hell, of having to grow up."
This is all in a book that he himself published. The only information that's not put in it is that he was 18 going on 19, and she was 15 going on 16. And he seems to have a self-awareness to try and hide that fact. "We even met with a catholic priest, but he refused to marry us. In life's long list of things, that didn't make sense at the time, this was one of them. I now know, as a man of God, and the Angels, he was likely being guided, by forces greater, than we as humans, can fully understand."
The "forces greater than humans can understand" is the law because she was underage and he was not. And by the time that I was born, he was gone, sort of. His parents essentially cleaned up his mess. They took care of his child support payments, I've been seeing them since I was a few weeks old, and as such I've had connections with the paternal side of my family ever since. They even gave Keith plenty of opportunities to connect with me in my life. Even in the same house, I didn't exist to the man. (Until I turned 18 and he had no legal or financial obligations anymore).
The books are the most disturbing pig shit I've ever read, and they'll be relevant again later. But this is largely the reason I go by "Rozanski." Let me put it this way - no kid should look up at a man who is responsible for them being alive and ask "why am I calling this man dad" with like legit reason. Both sets of grandparents basically helped my single mother in her teenage years, going to school and graduating while working a job at the local Dunkin Donuts. And other members of my extended family helped as well, my great grandmother, aunts and uncles, and so on.
When I was two, my mother met another man. This one became my stepfather. I don't remember anything about their early relationship, or why my mother married at the age of 18. There's been speculation that it was out of religious reasons, but there's no proof of that. The more likely reason is that she had a kid that was raising without help from a father. One who, by his own admission, would be in jail by the end of the 90's, for what I can only assume is a drug charge.
My stepfather was abusive, physically and emotionally, I've made that clear before. He was large and intimidating and very immature. He worked as a truck driver before a stint with RCN (a cable/internet company that has since been acquired by Wave Broadband) before working as a truck driver again. I'm keeping his name anonymous for a couple of reasons. Most prominently, I haven't heard from him in 15 years and if someone is out of my life, I don't care. Two, virtually everything he did to me, the blame is shared with Keith for his dereliction of duty.
The specifics of abuse aren't too relevant. Lot of shouting, lot of yelling. There was a belt involved. Grades were largely a catalyst for abuse. Any money that I had gotten from Christmases, birthdays, etc were all placed into a "college fund" that never existed. If you're curious. It led to some psychological issues that I am still dealing with today, but most prominently it led to a social anxiety that I didn't get over until I became an internet influencer. One of the most prominent memories was during fifth grade, after a bad report card (or some shit), I was sat at the table from 5 PM to 8 PM with my stepfather repeatedly slamming on the kitchen table, asking why as loudly and intimidatingly as possible. And the only answer that he would accept was "I'm lazy."
My stepfather and my mother had three kids together - Ashley, Brandon, and Emily in that order. Please do not contact them or search information about them. They are not public figures, let them have privacy. We had several animals as well. Three dogs, Matthew, Daisy, Molly. Matthew was a big lazy newfoundland who passed on first and was replaced by Patrick in the mid-2000's. Daisy was a very nice white Labrador. And Molly was a grumpy I-don't-know. Eventually the girls got cats, I got fish. Brandon and Emily got gerbils and hamsters. And we even found a ferret in the garage. My mother liked animals, and yes, they were all cared for quite well.
School.
I went to Our Lady of Hope. This was a catholic K-8 private school that closed down in the mid-2000's. My stepfather said that it was because I would never survive in the public Springfield school system. However, it is worth noting that my family was slightly religious. The "church on Christmas and Thanksgiving" kind of religious, my great grandmother was actually very religious. She was actually a nun for a time, but after her brother died in the Korean war, I'm guessing that she found a different path and started a family.
I had a hard time connecting with school. I am on the autism spectrum and at the time it must have been apparent. I did see certain therapists, but I was never told what for and we stopped seeming them abruptly. I wasn't allowed to see a lot of things. Like my report cards until third grade. Don't ask, I don't have an answer. But it was one of the many things that caused me to not care about the whole system.
In kindergarten, I took a long time to do assignments. Whenever the kids finished their assignments, they got to play with the games. That time was nearly up by the time I was finished, so I learned quickly to cheese the assignment to get more time with the games. They were also journal assignments, and I didn't like writing about myself. At some point, I just wrote small fictional stories about a dog character (that is long lost), and called it a day.
It also didn't help that at this point, I got a bully. Classic 90's flavor. Made school life a living hell, but the teachers and such didn't seem to take notice. To be fair, it might've been because I was a mental shut-in, and media at the time painted a lot of the life around me as normal. You know, what's my stepfather next to Homer Simpson? What's my mother next to Lois from Malcolm in the Middle? Assholes like this guy are just a part of life, like Gary Oak or Draco Malfoy.
Third grade happens, one of his friends gets the bright idea to bring in pepper spray. They call it "mouse spray" (whatever that means), but I get sprayed in my eyes during recess. It burns for like 40 minutes. The teacher does let me into the bathroom, you know, after not seeing what happens. I'm not sure, but I do think she was fired. And the bully was expelled. I was also held back. Why? I don't know. Could've been grades, it also could have been a reputation thing.
So, during the 2001/2002 school year, I was in third grade again. Nothing interesting happened. Like I'm not even being cheeky or ironic. That year and the next were just boring.
5th grade happens and I actually get some school friends, two of them. And I'm not going to state their names here because, I know how the internet works. But they actually made the next couple of years something really special, even if my academic performance still wasn't all that great (see above). And I could go into deeper memories, but that's not what this about. I was probably still really anxious and insular. I know I had a specific anxiety about the phone, and I refused to use them at all costs, which... was how friends kept in touch back then. I broke my wrist by slipping on ice once. Not relevant, but I thought I'd mention it.
Sixth grade, I move to a different town. However, because it was a private school, I could still keep going to it. So, during this time my family had a Sunday paper route. Two actually. Parents would drive around and construct the papers. Then at 4 in the morning, every Sunday, no matter how cold, we kids would deliver the papers. For 10 whole dollars. Per week. (and money I didn't spend would often go missing).
2005 we're about to begin another round of this, one May. Speeding car goes by, the van we're doing this in gets hit. Hard. In the back. I still have the legal photos, and the door is likely chewed gum. My mother was in the far back, constructing papers at the time. She lived, obviously, but this would start her on painkillers, an addiction that would eventually claim her life. I have to assume. There's been speculation that she had addiction problems before this, thanks to dear old dad, but this is where a very specific addiction started, oxycodone.
The side effects are terrible. You just randomly fall asleep sometimes and are half-lucid. My mother was a smoker. And so she'd be falling asleep with lit cigarettes, some of them just dropping below to a wooden floor. One spring I'm smelling gas because our new house had a gas stove, because she must have fallen asleep at the time. And knowing her habit of half-lucidly lighting up, I'm probably lucky to be alive. And we were able to clear the house of smoke before anything happened.
7th grade was my final year of Our Lady of Hope. It was terrible. None of the teachers I liked, and... okay, so no one ever seems to believe me on this, but I swear to god it's true. 7th grade math class decided to teach us rounding, and 7th grade English tried to teach us nouns and verbs. It was the same subject matter my second grade sister was dealing with. I was mentally checked out at that point, and I spent time reading the backs of textbooks. Because history wanted us to learn the Westward expansion for the 5th time that I knew like the back of my hand, I started reading about things like the Cold War that we'd never ever get to because they wanted to teach the Westward Expansion in slightly more detail for the 5th time.
Also, around this time I discovered that I was asexual. Sort of. Every other student discovered that they weren't, and so it was sex jokes constantly and I hated that more than anything. It was a miserable time, with only brief bits of light. And by the end of that year, Our Lady of Hope was closed down, probably having to do with the above, and I could move firmly on to the teenage years. Next time.
Please do not contact anyone that I have mentioned. That's half of the reason that I'm making these. Let private individuals remain private, alright?
