Emmaprovement Continues...

With much sadness, we say goodbye to Emma Cheevers, one of our founding writers and a childhood friend of Taryn Ross, UJ's editor-in-chief.

Addiction is a terrible disease, which affects so many of our finest young people, cutting them down in their prime. Emma was able to hide her weakness for a while, but eventually the disease was just too strong to fight.

Like so many addicts, she hid it from those closest to her, and believed - deludedly - she didn't have a problem.

But, recently, she faltered, again, hitting what we can only hope is rock bottom. The details are still unclear, but seemingly, like most abusers, she started small, believing she could handle it.

And she hid it. From us, from everyone, because she knew - we'd do everything to stop her; especially after the events of last December, when she alarmed friends by disappearing for days. Finally, we found her, sleep deprived and tearful.

After a harsh intervention, she went cold turkey. Everything seemed fine - she was dating, working out; she seemed happy. But the addiction was lurking below the surface, ready to strike; temptation was everywhere.

Few in London knew about her past problems. Some blamed it on the all-girls school she attended, where - without access to boys - undoubtedly, the problem began.

What teenage girl doesn't linger around her crush's neighbourhood? Call him and hang up a few times? Maybe, you know, do a few drive-bys? Harmless teenage behaviour. But Emma was highly intelligent, and as such, her 'espionage' skills, as she called them, developed.

Addicts often mask their problems with language. Like the alcoholic's 'I like a few drinks, so what?' or the coke user's 'who needs a septum?', 'espionage' was just a fancy way of denying the truth.

Put plainly, Emma is a stalker.

Originally, she was limited by geography; the Internet opened up a new territory. What could be described as "social" stalking became compulsive. Google.com was bad, yes; but when she joined MySpace.com - last December - her problem escalated to a full-blown addiction. One that - with the support of those around her - she was able to control. Or so it seemed.

According to her flatmate, she mentioned a Facebook invitation in passing. For a while, things went on as normal: she worked, laundry was done, she socialised. Looking back, though, some said she seemed distracted.

But when she failed to show up at a free-drinks party, we suspected the cold hands of addiction had gripped her again.

She was finally located, hunched over her Mac, in food-stained clothes, a full ashtray by her side. Papers were littered around her with names, schools, dates and arrows - complicated mathematical charts.

The results were impressive. Within hours her 'friends' list numbered in the hundreds: old boyfriends from as far back as nursery school, foreign lovers, random dates, childhood crushes, even her old sailing teacher.