Paige Johnson > Recent Status Updates

She snorts her derision, not disrupt her Zen garden of raked white. “But when you do drugs, it’s a therapeutic ritual, right? It’s a religious aid. Or medicine.” She sneers.

Obviously, jaundice yellows you, but I thought it would be like a manilla envelope…He looked bathed in highlighter, like some cursed, glow-eyed pharaoh. It was insane. I hadda take a walk…some talk chalk to cheer up.”

Might bail soon

Meeehhh.

“You’re not exactly a soothe-sayer, all death-obsessed.”
“I’m not the one with a black aura.”
“More like a bitch aura.” She sticks out her tongue.

Like the twist

Onyx like her eyes. “They call it the warrior stone. It’s protective and named after the Greek word for claw.”

Leaving voicemails like breadcrumbs for his girl to find her way back to him.

The second third is so good yet now it seems it’s about to get annoyingly repetitive and cliche again

Better

“‘Trust me, trust me,’ said the snake to the bunny,” he mimics high-voiced yet tosses me a capsule. “Lucky for you, Maria likes to play with her food, too.”  

“Sooo, is what I do ‘fortune cookie crap’ to you, too?” He gives a handsome smirk, impression lightening, his perimeter’s dark spots spreading out freer, like happy little pill bugs. “Sort of superstitious, but more Catholic. But you keep her off my back? I’ll believe anything.”

“Shoulda warned ya it’s a bit of a foam party.” “Then I’d look more suspicious, toting an umbrella and trench coat.”

“You’re argumentative like your father.” “He’d say he got that from me.”

Jesus, is this repetitive

“You didn’t see Olive Eyes packing or selling on the street?”
“Swear.” Placing a hand on my heart, I snicker at the nickname. His eyes are a peculiar color. Martini green. Like his heart—or at least his headspace.

A lot of nothing happening even if it can be cozy

Literally don’t understand how you write something so unfocused. Barely a MC