Kenya Moore Release First Five Chapters Of Memoir “Invisible”
Whether you hate her or love her, Kenya seems like she’s here to stay.
Since she became apart of the Atlanta Housewives cast, I’ve always thought she was a little off and coo-coo for cocoa puffs, but now we all know exactly why she acts the way she does because of her unresolved, deep-rooted family issues.
The former Miss USA has been very open about her issues she’s had with her parents, in particular her mother Patricia Moore, who refuses to see her.
During the last episode of Real Housewives of Atlanta this past Sunday, Kenya tried to go see her mother while she was visiting in Detroit and that didn’t turn out well at all. In fact, she ended up in a huge argument with her Aunt Lori who raised her.
A few episodes back, Kenya finally got a chance to spend some time with her dad who seems a little slow or either uninterested in what she had to say or what she had going on as she took him on a tour to her new under construction chateau.
Kenya took it to her Instagram to share that the first five chapters of her memoir “Invisible” was available for free.
The first five chapters of Kenya Moore’s memoir “Invisible” is about 42 pages long and the very first chapter is titled “Emergency”.
Peep some excerpts below:
She’s seizing! We have an emergency on floor six! She’s flatlining! Get the jumpers! Get the drugs—STAT! All the drugs you can find, nurse! I am groggy and it’s hazy and I have no idea where I am. I am wet, I am screaming, but no one responds. I try to move. I cannot. I feel deaf, blind and dumb. Stats?! Black female, approximate age 16, found comatose. Vitals are low, non-responsive. I feel out of my body. There are people in white uniforms pushing and pinching, rolling me through dirty white halls of dirty white strangers in dirty white uniforms. They check my pupils, take my blood, twist my body in awkward positions. Leave me alone! Get me the hell out of here!
The dim halls have sheepish ghosts who stare at me, sizing me up. Some laugh, just to taunt me. Others cry and some shout violent words peppered with obscenities at me. GET HER THE HELL OUT OF HERE! SHE DOESN’T BELONG HERE! SHE IS NOT ONE OF US! I can feel that my face is wet; I try to wipe it. But my hands do not respond to what my mind is asking them to do. I can make out my fingers twitching, though only slightly. With my eyes, I follow them from the tips and realize that my arm is strapped down to the bed. I try to use the other one. It is tied, too, and I can see a woman in a white uniform attempting to adjust an I.V. I follow the tube hanging from the bag of liquid and see that it leads to my arm. NO! GET ME THE FUCK OUT OF HERE! HELP ME! The ghosts laugh and stare and take bets. Will I stay or will I go? They debate. How long will I be here? What medicine combination will they give me? The apparitions continue, exchanging clear money from one hand to many hands to many more hands. Some take dumps in the middle of the hallway and others sling the offensive, pungent shit, smearing it along the walls and forming illegible words of hate and disdain. I say it’s Lithium, one offers. No, Chlorpromazine, you dumb fucking asshole! Another counters.
Continue reading the first five chapters of the Kenya Moore memoir “Invisible” here.