-
https://ko-fi.com/emmaslens – please help support my work x -
https://ko-fi.com/emmaslens – please support my work x -
https://ko-fi.com/emmaslens – support me on Ko-Fi!
-
The shadows reached out to me,
enticing, enchanting.
“Come back to us. You were always one of us.”
—
I wrote that several days before I landed in the hospital. Given my depression and generally hopeless mindset, there’s likely no relation to what actually happened, but it’s still unsettling to read retrospectively.
-
I no longer consider myself religious, but I have respect for the rosary and crosses. I see them as symbols of hope and comfort, if that makes sense. -
I am excited beyond words to announce that Wounds I Healed: The Poetry of Strong Women is now the No.1 Bestselling New Release in Poetry Anthologies in both Paperback and Kindle formats: Chart-topping success! Thank you to everyone who has helped create a buzz around the launch of the anthology, and to all who have […]
Wounds I Healed: A #1 Amazon Bestseller! -
The Enchanted Highway, we travelled along Interstate 94 into the Dakotas, which by the way the blue sky’s and lush green prairie grass fields are picturesque all on their own. But, all of a sudden large pieces of art work started to appear on the sides of the road. Thirty-two miles south of the nearest […]
The Enchanted Highway -
Took some shots of their beautiful plants x not 100% still, but much better than the last two days. Even cleaned my damn room at last.
-
I spent 8 hours in hospital on Tuesday for having a seizure. They found no cause, and I was useless because I remembered nothing about it. It was like the blink of an eye: I was reading my phone, then suddenly my dad was standing in my room looking at me in horror.
“You just had a fit,” he stammered at my blank expression, before calling an ambulance.
How could I have a fit – a stereotypical epileptic fit from what I looked up later on – and have no memory of it? All I felt was tired and my mouth felt numb. Nobody in my family is epileptic. This made no sense whatsoever.
It happened. And after eight hours, bloods, chest x-ray and a CT scan (had that yesterday), nobody knows why. I suppose there’s a “life comes at you pretty fast” joke in here somewhere, but mostly…I’m scared. Did I cause this with my admittedly not exactly clean living life? Is it finally time for, to quote my favourite novel, “the momentum of change” to begin?
I don’t know. I’m the sort who acts fairly blasé about the idea of my death, but death is still a frightening concept even to the most suicidal.
I don’t know where I want to go from here. But I don’t want to stay here.
Bloody Roses 