Editing Emma: Online you can choose who you want to be. If only real life were so easy.... Chloe Seager

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СКАЧАТЬ 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, СКАЧАТЬ