Well, hi.


I’m Emma, 23 and a complete and utter fruitcake. A bundle of energy with a tendency to be a rollercoaster of wild emotions, bipolar and all them snaggly little monsters. Those sneaky little bastards ain’t coming to light just yet. On the contrary, acquaintances and friends have said I’m funny and have the potential to be a comedian but not really that on par flying zingas out just happens randomly, naturally. I just think I’ve lost the actual plot.

Right Well, blogging… Do i randomly go on about certain things I like? Do I say the things I write in my actual journal. And there my friend, is the question.



“Two paths diverge at a yellow wood; and I take the one less trodden by.” – R. Frost.

This seems to be the quote of everytime I reach a pause; standstill of some sort. Either for good or bad, neither or both.

I revolved in the same few roles of repetition for almost a decade now. Only now can I identify it, but can say none of those roles where my true form (thank god).

I thought I was damaged and felt a victim, I felt sorry for myself and almost became reliant on others doting behaviours and care. I resorted to fuck being adult I’ll do what I bloody well feel like, rapid, reckless, thoughtless and fleeting decisions.

But is it to “hide” or pure fucking idiotic laziness. The idea of resuming “Functional Emma” is so exhaustively boring. Yet, still I procrastinate.

A fraction of my mind is screaming abuse in silent frustration but I’m too busy getting disengaged from reality to give a shit.


Ice demons.

I let the air carry my thoughts,

Taking away the shame and taunts,

Breathing slow, I’m trying to let go,

Yet all I see is an icy snow.

One that’s settled on my heart,

Ripping from the inside apart;

Yet the warmth of blood melts this being,

The icy demons are no longer breathing.

I’ve cut them open and made them see,

All they’ve attempted to hurt me,

Their eyes bleed and their soul collapses,

The time has come for no more relapses.

I am free and can spread this wings;
and finally not care about a thing.

Fight temptation to self-destruct

Again I feel i am all out of luck,

In the stillness of remembering,

All my world slowly descending,

The sun shines but behind clouds,

I can’t breathe or hear any sound,

Except the pulsing of this blood,

Or anxiety coming like a flash flood,

Where does sanity reside once more?

Locked behind an unreachable door,

When does the brain become my friend?

Rather than pushing me away again.

Stuck in the same cycle like a broken washing machine. Endless rinse and spins disorienting; blurring like watercolour.

I thought years ago I was different to what i seem to be exhibiting now. Behaviours I hadn’t even really recognised rather than not noticed, I knew what I was doing but not to the extent of rationality. It’s like I’ve forgotten how to function like how a “normal” human being should. I have all these pressures and expectations myself saying I should be successful by now, the normal house shit and good job like a regular person. But I’ve come to realise that I am not the usual person though, we haven’t shared the same lives; to put it simply.


The same person I’ve always been,is looking back into this scene,
a different face yet identical eyes,
with the mouth that longer lies. Through the storm I sheltered you,
I believed things I’d never thought to be true,
covered up secrets tied with a bow,
the truth you thought no one should know.
It became too late as the darkness called,
I began to shatter as existence pulled,
was it reality or just a game?
Either way, I’m no longer the same.
Yet now I’m here and definitely alive,
the past unravelled and I survived,
you tried your hardest with no mistake,
but throughout it all I was never yours to break.


The concepts of 1984 by George Orwell compared to present day realities is astounding in my opinion.

“Big brother is watching you” still rings quietly in the back of my head, an echo of what I have read.

I’m not talking about all the hopus pocus conspiracy theory dribble, but of the way the government itself, internationally also, and how the corruption impacts our societies.

Miss-led, drip-fed and dumbed-down. Sensored, manipulated and undisclosed.