Emily is that loud, self-absorbed girl who finds herself in less than desired situations, although she enjoys the less than desired because she receives attention for it. She’s that girl who gets drunk at parties on shots of vodka and chugs the last of the rum she’s put into a GO GREEN water bottle. She has that boyfriend who we all know is cheating on her with some other Emily lookalike, and that swears to her and his “crew” that he’s been “tested and found clean” for Chlamydia. Emily blogs about her problems to her five hundred and fifty-three followers instead of going to therapy, and she has recently started “watching what she eats” meaning, eating around eight hundred calories a day. She wants to feel liked, even by those that would rather be indifferent to her because they don’t want to be sucked into her problems by either being her enemy or her friend.

But Emily, although seemingly only two-dimensional, has another side to her. She is insecure like the rest of us. She is depressed. She refuses to talk to her own therapist because she is worried she will be judged. She contemplates suicide when she lies in bed at night.
Emily, the girl with all the friends, Emily who gets invited to every party that takes place on Saturday night, Emily the girl who has boys in love with her left and right, Emily the girl who seems like that perfect popular girl, is alone. She is afraid of herself and what the future holds for her. She needs some love; she needs to know that she’s not the only one.