Copyright

An imprint of HarperCollins Publishers Ltd

1 London Bridge Street

London SE1 9GF

First published in Great Britain by HQ in 2017

Copyright © Chloe Seager 2017

Chloe Seager asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.

Ebook Edition © August 2017 ISBN: 9780008220983

Version: 2018-04-03

CHLOE SEAGER grew up in East London with her mum and much-loved cat, Katie. She studied English Literature and Drama at the University of East Anglia, where she sadly realised she couldn’t act, but did rediscover her love of children’s books. Children’s Literature was one of her favourite modules, and it made her wonder why grown-ups ever stopped reading them. She now works with them full time as a YA/Children’s literary agent, and lives back in East London with her boyfriend and pet fish. Editing Emma is her first book.

Contents

Cover

Title Page

Copyright

About the Author

My Dingy Internet Cave Tuesday, 2 September i.e. Day 45 of Despair

Wednesday, 3 September i.e. Day 46 of Despair

Thursday, 4 September i.e. Day 47 of Despair

Friday, 5 September i.e. Day 48 of Despair

Saturday, 6 September i.e. Day 1 of Recovery

Editing Emma (The Secret Blog of A Nearly Proper Person)

Sunday, 7 September

Monday, 8 September

Tuesday, 9 September

Wednesday, 10 September

Thursday, 11 September

Friday, 12 September

Saturday, 13 September

Sunday, 14 September

Monday, 15 September

Tuesday, 16 September

Wednesday, 17 September

Thursday, 18 September

Friday, 19 September

Saturday, 20 September

Sunday, 21 September

Monday, 22 September

Tuesday, 23 September

Wednesday, 24 September

Thursday, 25 September

Friday, 26 September

Saturday, 27 September

Sunday 28th September

Monday, 29 September

Tuesday, 30 September

Wednesday, 1 October

Thursday, 2 October

Friday 3rd October

Saturday, 4 October

Sunday, 5 October

Monday 6th October

Tuesday, 7 October

Wednesday, 8 October

Thursday 9th October

Friday, 10 October

Saturday, 11 October

Sunday, 12 October

Monday, 13 October

Tuesday, 14 October

Wednesday, 15 October

Thursday, 16 October

Friday, 17 October

Saturday, 18 October

Sunday, 19 October

Monday, 20 October

Tuesday, 21 October

Wednesday, 22 October

Thursday, 23 October

Friday, 24 October

Saturday, 25 October

Sunday, 26 October

Editing Emma

Acknowledgments

About the Publisher

My Dingy Internet Cave Tuesday, 2 September i.e. Day 45 of Despair

posted by MissH 15.03

Leon Naylor is in a relationship with Anna McDonnell.

3 mins

Huh… That’s funny. Because I thought he was in a relationship with me.

posted by MissH 16.05

My phone rings. And rings. And rings. It’s Steph. Then Faith. Then Gracie. I know they mean well (except Gracie, who will be not-so-secretly enjoying this) but I really don’t want to speak to anyone. Maybe ever again. I will limit human contact to only when it’s strictly necessary, i.e. my mum when I need food. Maybe she’d even consider getting a little hatch put in my bedroom door.

posted by MissH 17.14

Staring at the status as it gets more and more comments and likes, becoming more and more real as I become more and more discarnate.

I guess that explains why he hasn’t spoken to me all summer, then. How could he do this? Am I not even worth a proper break-up? Was I that unimportant, that he can just act like I never existed? I wasn’t even made Facebook official. I didn’t even have the dignity of him ending our relationship in person or online before starting a new one. I have been left in the shadows, invisible and unacknowledged.

Has he been meeting up with her all this time? All this time I’ve been sending out deranged, thinly veiled tweets that are OBVIOUSLY about him? Or posting photos that say, ‘LOOK AT ME IN THIS REVEALING OUTFIT HAVING SO MUCH FUN. I’M COMPLETELY FINE WHO NEEDS YOU LALALA’, when really Steph had put me to bed by 7 pm sobbing in my heels. Through all of that, he’s been starting another relationship? For how long? I did see her on a group shot on that day out to Hyde Park, but I thought she knew one of his friends, or something.

posted by MissH 19.36

This is what the inside of my brain looks like:

Leon Naylor is in a relationship with Anna McDonnell.

Leon Naylor is in a relationship with Anna McDonnell.

Leon Naylor is in a relationship with Anna McDonnell.

Leon Naylor is in a relationship with Anna McDonnell.

Leon Naylor is in a relationship with Anna McDonnell.

Leon Naylor is in a relationship with Anna McDonnell.

Leon Naylor is in a relationship with Anna McDonnell.

Leon Naylor is in a relationship with Anna McDonnell.

Leon Naylor is in a relationship with Anna McDonnell.

Leon Naylor is in a relationship with Anna McDonnell.

Leon Naylor is in a relationship with Anna McDonnell.

Leon Naylor is in a relationship with Anna McDonnell.

posted by MissH 21.05

It almost feels better, now that I know for certain. (Almost. But not quite.) He really has been ignoring me. As if all the other evidence wasn’t enough:

He started to ‘miss’ my calls, and didn’t call me back.

Even when I got Steph to phone him from her mum’s number, and he answered, I convinced myself it was probably a coincidence. Maybe the twenty or so times I called him, he really had been in the shower.

He stopped replying to my texts.

I was so sure they’d been accidentally swallowed into an abyss by O2. (Who I did ring, frantically, several times.)

He detagged ALL pictures of us.

I still can’t believe I was kidding myself about that one. I thought maybe it was a weird error, or his friends did it as a joke. But really, it seems like quite an extreme length to go to, to break up with someone… Surely just telling them is easier?

posted by MissH 23.37

The Forgotten Photos

Can’t sleep so I made a list of my favourite pictures of us, that he so coldly detagged. Because we did have a relationship, it did exist and I am not hallucinating. I am not hallucinating.

4)
Us doing our best smize. (November.) We put it up for people to vote on and I won, 82 per cent. It was raining A LOT and my eye make-up was running down my face in a way which Leon said was ‘haunting’ and gave me an unfair advantage. He demanded a rematch.

3)
Us lying on the school field. (March.) Our faces are red and puffy because a football had just hit me in the face (thanks Steph). After laughing for about a zillion years, Leon stood in front of the goal and let a football whack him in the face, too.

2)
Us in Gracie’s garden the night he asked me to ‘go out’ with him. (June.) Gracie did a barbecue (or her parents did after she caused a smog). The sun was going down and we were lazing in the back garden, choking from leftover fumes and laughing. I can’t remember ever feeling so happy. (Apart from maybe when I won that magazine competition for designing my own red carpet outfit. They made the dress and sent it to me, and put a picture of me on the back page. It’s pretty sad that these are the best moments I can pick out in my life – in one I was eleven, and one has been completely ruined.)

1)
Us at the end of term, before summer break. (July.) We are TOGETHER in this one. (I am not hallucinating.) We have been together for two weeks. We are lurking outside the Sixth Form Centre, peering in the windows and scoping it out for next year. I remember being excited by the new beanbag chairs, and Leon saying, ‘Good luck getting out of those when I sit on you.’ We laughed. I threatened to protect myself from suffocation by stabbing him with a snooker cue. We kissed. And now I’m in this place, and I’m not sure how I got here.

Wednesday, 3 September i.e. Day 46 of Despair

posted by MissH 11.30

Sitting in the living room, steaming my stye with a bowl of boiling water. My hair has not been brushed for three days or washed for six, unless you count dry shampoo. There is a dark stain on my pyjamas from where I was too eager with a tub of chocolate mousse. According to all the TV shows that ever cast glamorous twenty-five-year-old women to represent me, this is NOT how my teenage life is supposed to look.

It also seems a little unfair that I get dumped, and grow a big, red, painful lump on my eye from the stress of it. Still, maybe it’s an important life lesson to learn. Give someone your undying love, they give you a stye.

posted by MissH 11.32

Not even dumped. Avoided. I had to work out for myself that I was dumped.

posted by MissH 13.03

I can’t seem to get off Anna’s profile. There are lots of pictures of her doing sports (I think she is the Hockey Captain). Should I have paid more attention in Games instead of using the time to chase Gracie around with my stick? And she has… wait for it… a baking blog. It’s called, I kid you not: Scrumptiously, Anna. There are lots of videos of her whisking cake mixture whilst looking, quite seriously, into the camera. Should I have paid more attention in FT?

I want to say she’s not, but she’s indisputably pretty. I have named her Apple in my head to make her less threatening.

posted by MissH 17.48

Still, she might be pretty, but there’s something really bland about people who always have the same expression in photos. Boring face. Boring face. Boring face. Boring face. I mean, yes, we all have our standard poses (I am a fan of the tongue-poke), but seriously… PHOTO after PHOTO of that insipid smile. She may as well just have one photo. The only way you can tell it’s even a different night is because she’s changed her cardigan.

posted by MissH 18.56

APPLE AND EMMA: THE PRO/CON LIST

NB: evidence gathered only from photos (not totally solid) and self-reflection (notoriously difficult)

APPLE

CONS: She can’t quite smile properly. This may or may not mean something very significant about her personality.

PROS: She’s all nice and pretty and wins sports tournaments and things for the school. She has a baking blog and makes cakes for her friends.

EMMA

CONS: I have been told my smile is ‘demonic’. I can’t do ANY form of sports (though I have been told watching me fall over provided ‘light comic relief’ on Sports Day. Should this go in the Con or Pro list?).

PROS: I’m not not nice. I’m not not pretty, when I bother to brush my hair. I have an encyclopedic knowledge of rubbish TV shows. I have a blog, too, though it’s mainly dedicated to self-pity, and it never results in cake.

Looking at it this way, I think I know who I’d choose, too.

posted by MissH 21.14

God, look at me. I have now, officially, wasted the entire day staring into the vacant eyes of my ex-boyfriend’s new girlfriend. Still, as Jennifer Lawrence once said, ‘You try being twenty-two, having a period and staying away from Google! I once Googled “Jennifer Lawrence Ugly”.’ If J-Law isn’t strong enough to resist the self-destructive charms of the internet, then what hope do I have?

posted by MissH 23.58

Going to sleep, stroking the plaster under my pillow.

The plaster under my pillow

It is, obviously, Leon’s. One night, Mum went out and in a very thoughtless act of selfishness she left ingredients in the fridge, but failed to put them together into a shepherd’s pie. So, I was VERY hungry and wondering what I was supposed to do with this pile of meat and vegetables, and I Snapchatted Leon a picture of me holding a peeler, looking confused. He sent back a picture of himself holding up his hand, with a message that I remember very clearly because I screen-shot it and had it as my background for a month,

‘PUT THE PEELER DOWN. I’ll be there in 5. I quite like your fingers and I’d hate to lose one to a pie.’

(Message to Steph ten seconds later: ‘He likes my fingers! He likes my FINGERS!’)

I stood around dithering, hopping from one foot to the other and shaking my arms above my head. I kept trying to position myself in ways that felt natural, but I seemed to have forgotten how to stand. Then there was a knock that vibrated through the house. My heart pounded like it was Jack Nicholson at the door holding an axe, and I slowly edged towards it. When I let him in I was so nervous I couldn’t even look at him. I turned round, and he collapsed in a fit of laughter.

‘Thanks for the warning,’ he spluttered, pointing at my shoulders.

I completely forgot I was wearing my pyjamas that say, ‘I Fart. What’s Your Superpower?’ on the back.

‘What? Oh… Steph bought them for me as a joke!!’ I turned to face him, dying a little inside.

‘So you don’t fart?’ he asked.

‘I… No,’ I said, carefully walking backwards into the kitchen.

‘What? Never?’

‘No. Never.’

‘I’m going to have to call you out on that one, Emma, because that’s a physical impossibility. The average person produces half a litre of farts every day.’

‘…Well…I don’t.’

‘If you hold them in they come out in your sleep. Maybe that’s why Steph got you the pyjamas. You think you never fart but actually by night you are Explosive Emma.’

‘You seem to be worryingly full of gas knowledge.’

‘You seem to be worryingly full of gas.’

‘Are you going to help, or did you just come to insult me?’

‘Pass me the knife.’ He smiled.

As he began chopping, I remember feeling very solemn, like it was some kind of pivotal moment in our relationship that I should honour. Leon was in my kitchen. Chopping a carrot. He passed me the little pieces of vegetable and I took them very delicately, like he was handing me a baby.

‘You’d better not start calling me Explosive Emma.’

‘Already changing it in my Contacts,’ he said, reaching for his phone.

I threw a potato at his head.

‘It works in reference to your violent nature, too.’

‘I hate you.’

‘Do you?’ he asked, looking straight at me. I suddenly felt like I was made of glass and all my insides were on show. My stomach started backflipping, as he moved imperceptibly towards me…

‘Bollocks,’ he said, breaking eye contact.

It took me a second to register he’d cut his finger.

‘The irony,’ he said sheepishly, as I ran to get a wet cloth and started dabbing at him.

‘Haha, yes, irony, yes.’

Touching Leon, touching Leon, touching Leon.

‘Thanks, Emma.’

‘No problem.’

I would gladly clean up your blood by licking it off the counter.

‘Can I have a plaster?’

‘Sure.’

Take all the plasters. Take everything. That fruit bowl. That pile of Vogue magazines. My shoes. My vital organs.

So… yes. That is the story of the plaster. I can honestly say I don’t think I’ve ever found anything so satisfying as putting on that plaster. Before he left he put it in the bin and took another one, and I took it out of the bin, wrapped it in cling film and put it under my pillow. Yes. Fine. I admit it. I’M NOT PROUD OF IT, OK. As long as I remember that this is freakish behaviour, it’s definitely sort of OK. And luckily I have Steph to remind me. (‘THROW IT AWAY NOW YOU COMPLETE WEIRDO’ I believe were her exact words.)

I put the sacred pie in the fridge, ate some toast and went to bed. The pie didn’t last very long because Mum ate it the next day. She didn’t understand why I was so upset, though.

Thursday, 4 September i.e. Day 47 of Despair

posted by MissH 12.03

Only just got up and already wish I hadn’t. Not a single Snapchat or WhatsApp. You’d think someone might have bothered. I mean, I’m not speaking to anyone, but you’d think they might have tried a bit harder.

posted by MissH 14.59

A picture of them has been uploaded. A PICTURE OF THEM HAS BEEN UPLOADED. They’re at London Zoo, in front of the squirrel monkey exhibit. Anna is standing half smiling and Leon is crouching down pretending to be one of the animals. He looks like he’s having so much fun.

Are they there now? Are they there now having fun whilst I’m here sitting looking at them having fun and feeling as if I’ll never have fun again???

I can’t believe they went to London Zoo. On a date. A date to London Zoo like a real couple. A real couple in a real, Facebook official relationship. UGH. It’s like celebrities who have a verified tick on Twitter. It just makes them more valid as a human being, somehow.

posted by MissH 15.30

Mum came back from a meeting with a new client and started babbling at me from the hallway. It did actually feel nice to hear someone talking in the real world, even if it was about mood lighting and sinks without plugs.

‘Anyway, I told her I don’t care how nice they look, a sink without a plug is insane. I refuse to be that kind of designer…’

She came in, looked at me, and sighed.

‘Lovely, is that how you greet me now?’ I demanded.

‘I’m sick of you, quite frankly, Emma. Look, I know you’re upset,’ she blathered on, ‘but it doesn’t mean you can lounge around here being moody, not cleaning up after yourself.’

One time I forgot to clear up my breakfast tray, and now I will never hear the end of it. And if she chooses to refer to my heartbreak in such diminishing terms i.e. ‘being moody,’ then I will obviously choose not to answer her.

She stood in the doorway, scanning me with judging eyes.

‘You’re not the only one who’s ever been upset in a relationship, you know. What about me? The Poison Penns? The entire world?’

(Who are the Poison Penns?)

‘I know you’ve been upset, Mum.’

I wanted to add, ‘because you make poor decisions,’ but I didn’t.

‘Get up and get on with it,’ she said, walking off before I could get another word in.

I hate it when she does that!!

Of course, I could get up and get on with it, but I’m too comfortable. Why can’t a girl have a few months where she lies in her own filth and literally doesn’t move unless it’s to urinate? I’m hardly going to start taking life advice from her.

Reasons I will not be taking life advice from my mother:

1)
She’s seeing a man who takes off his clothes in front of other women for a living. Bit of a red flag when you’re already a possessive person. Which she pretends not to be, but she is.

2)
She knew that about him when she chose to go out with him. It’s not like she met him, liked him and then found out. It was listed on his online dating profile.

3)
He’s about ten years younger than her. Absolutely fine, in theory, if only she didn’t keep going out with younger men and then moaning when they want different things. ‘Mum,’ I said once, ‘you know there’s a solution, and match.com have made it really easy for you. See that little bar? Where you put your age range in? You just need to shift it along a bit.’ Then she threw something at me.

4)
I’m her own daughter, and I don’t even know if she’s still seeing him. Who knows what’s happening with her love life? Does she even know? They’re on and off like Ross and Rachel, but weirder and in no way romantic.

posted by MissH 22.31

Still, I can be mean about her online dating antics all I like but she may have a point. I thought it was time to finally communicate with the outside world and get a valid, non-parental opinion. So Steph came over. When she arrived I heard Mum say, ‘She’s somewhere in the darkness. Just follow the smell.’

‘How are you?’ Steph asked cautiously, perching on the edge of the sofa. I looked even more pale and sickly next to her gorgeous dark skin, and she looked really good in her football kit. It sort of made me maybe want to get changed out of my giant, stained pyjamas, but only for a moment.

‘Fine,’ I replied.

‘Clearly,’ she said, glancing at the huge pile of tissues at my feet.

We sat in silence for a moment, and then I broke down in tears.

‘He’s got another girlfriend,’ I sobbed.

‘I know,’ she said, putting her arms around me.

‘And he didn’t even tell me.’

‘I know.’

‘I’m nothing.’

‘You’re not nothing. You’re definitely something.’

We stayed hugging for a while, until she said, ‘Emma, this is all lovely and everything, but on second thoughts can we hug after you’ve had a shower?’ She moved away.

‘Oh God. Look at me. This happened two months ago and I still feel exactly the same about it. I mean, yes, that status only just came up. But we stopped speaking at the beginning of summer. In two months I have made zero progress. How is that possible?’

‘Maybe because instead of actually trying to make progress you keep stewing over how you’ve made no progress.’

I sensed her annoyance, then. It was time to ask the important question.

‘Steph, am I being truly unbearable?’

‘No, I mean… well…’

‘It’s OK. You can tell me.’

She took a deep breath.

‘Well, the rate at which you ask me how I am has definitely gone down in proportion with how much you sit around pretending to be Miss Havisham. But that’s fine, there’s definitely an allowance for this.’

‘Ugh, for about two weeks, not two months. I’m so sorry.’

‘Emma, it’s OK, I don’t mind. I’m just a bit worried. Don’t you think it’s time to move on? I mean… Leon has.’

‘Owch.’

‘I’m sorry, Emmy, I’m not trying to be mean. I just really want you to see it like it is. I know you liked him, that’s probably an understatement, but…’

‘But he’s with Anna now. Who is categorically better than me. I know, I have the proof.’

‘What are you talking about?’

‘I made a pro/con list.’

‘I… You did WHAT?!’

For some reason this made her truly, deeply angry with me. Angrier than she has been with me all summer, angrier than she was when Oberyn’s head got squished on Game of Thrones. She launched into a full on rant,

‘EMMA. A PRO/CON LIST?! Come on!! Where’s your dignity and… sense of self worth?! Where’s your feminism?! You’re not like… objects to be compared!!! You’re both PEOPLE. Leon treating you like this has nothing to do with Anna, or you, and by the way… you completely don’t deserve to be treated like this!!!’

She took my phone and made me delete the pro/con list. Eventually, she calmed down, and started breathing normally again. Before she left I said, ‘I’m not pretending to be Miss Havisham, by the way, I’m channelling her.’

‘Whatever you say.’

posted by MissH 23.18

Ugh. Steph is so, so right!! An Emma/Apple pro/con list??? Is this what I’ve been reduced to?! Measuring myself against another girl? I should never have been left to sit around wondering what I did wrong, and I definitely shouldn’t be sitting around comparing myself with Leon’s new girlfriend!!! Making myself feel bad, or feeling the need to insult her when this is completely not her fault! People are different, and you know what, if he didn’t like me and he liked Bland Face then he should have had the guts to say it to my face. Or at least my direct message inbox.

An Ode To Steph

Oh Steph you make the skies seem blue, which they are in fact and that is true, but without you they might as well be poo, because without you oh what, oh what would I do?

Quite like that. Sent it to her. She said:

You are a freak. Sx 23.14

Friday, 5 September i.e. Day 48 of Despair

posted by MissH 12.46

Ghosting – Is This An Actual Thing?

Got an email from Gracie. It said, ‘I know you don’t want to talk but this might help xx’ and then she linked me to some article about something called ‘ghosting’.

The Urban Dictionary definition of ‘Ghosting’, just in case you were wondering:

The act of suddenly ceasing all communication with someone the subject is dating, but no longer wishes to date. This is done in hopes that the ghostee will just ‘get the hint’ and leave the subject alone, as opposed to the subject simply telling them he/she is no longer interested.

Was this supposed to make me feel better?!?!

posted by MissH 18.28

Spent the last five hours reading horror stories about ghosting. One woman was dating a man for eighteen months, had met his parents and agreed to move in, and one day he was just… gone. She went round to his flat and he’d moved out. She eventually got in touch with his old flatmate and apparently he was living in Scotland with another girl. Even more bizarre, one woman had been married (yes, MARRIED) to a man for twelve years (TWELVE YEARS) and one day they went to the local swimming pool. One moment he was there, doing his lengths nearby, and the next he was gone. Just like that. Did he get up and go in his trunks?? It’s two years later and she’s still technically married to him.

Aghh, I must stop this! YET ANOTHER DAY HAS BEEN WASTED FEELING SORRY FOR MYSELF. I need to focus on something else, anything else!! THE TIME HAS COME. Something good has to come out of this pathetic, miserable summer!! I will forget about Leon and his complete, utter rejection of me that makes me want to do nothing but lie in darkness watching serial killer documentaries on Netflix. I WILL NOT BE LEFT LOST AND CONFUSED IN A SWIMMING POOL.

I deserve so much more than a ‘ghosting’, and so does every other human being on the planet! I always knew it, in a sort of vague way like how you know you should floss, but now I’m really starting to feel it. Ugh. What a JERK. He had me feeling bad about not baking. I HATE BAKING. AND THAT IS FINE. It’s not like he’s so perfect, either… Let’s take a moment to examine Leon’s CONS, why don’t we!!

posted by MissH 18.57

Reasons Why Leon Naylor Is NOT Worth Any Girl’s Time or Virginity

1)
He ends relationships by pretending girls no longer exist. Do I need to go on? No, but I will anyway because there’s more.

2)
He eats far too many Chewits. There are other foods, you know.

3)
He finds fart humour way too funny. Sometimes it is, but there’s a time and a place.

4)
Relating to my last point, he is completely juvenile.

5)
He’s actually kind of stupid. He’s always getting me to help with his Maths, Physics & Chemistry (he really struggles with anything vaguely numerical). He pretends like he doesn’t care but he tries SO HARD in everything and usually gets bad marks anyway. He once confided in me that he felt like his parents loved his brother more, because he was the smart one and applying to medical schools. I told him it wasn’t true, but it probably is.

Oh, and his brother is better looking than him, too.

I hate him.

posted by MissH 23.48

I’m going to bed consumed with rage. I’m shaking a little bit and my teeth are chattering, I’m so angry. At least, I am for about five minutes and then I feel sad again. And then angry. And then sad. It feels good to finally be angry, I think, but it also feels like my body is too small for everything that’s going on inside me. It’s like a cage. How can everything that I’m feeling be contained in me, in this little room, in this little house? And everyone else’s feelings inside them, in their little rooms, in their little houses? All trapped inside ourselves sitting alongside each other in this big mess? Why hasn’t the world imploded?

I think anger must mean I’m feeling a bit better, anyway.

Saturday, 6 September i.e. Day 1 of Recovery

posted by MissH 10.50

Fuelled by a new outrage that has lasted for over twenty-four hours now, I have decided to take some action in my life. This has seemed a very remote and unreachable possibility all summer, and my reasons for feeling this way now are four-fold:

1. Anger and disbelief that I have been sitting around being this pitiable, for this long, over someone who has yet to even pay me the courtesy of a rude break-up text.

2. Panic that my own mother and best friend will stop talking to me if I don’t stop being so annoying. It’s not like I’m exactly swimming in friends as it is.

3. The realisation that not only have I succeeded in alienating all my friends, I seem to have estranged myself. (When did that happen? When did I become this pathetic person I really, intensely dislike?)

4. A belief (or hope) that there must surely be a better use for the internet than for self-involved moping and stalking my ex-boyfriend.

For these reasons I have started redesigning my blog, which is as pathetic as I am. Goodbye, My Dingy Internet Cave.

posted by MissH 11.01

Should I also throw away my Chewit wrapper collection of all the Chewits Leon ever gave me?

posted by MissH 11.04

Let’s not go too far.

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.