Tiffany’s Reviews > Paradise Logic > Status Update

"Sometimes," he says, "I feel like you have no opinions about anything. Like, you're afraid to tell me what you're thinking because you're scared something bad will happen. You're so fucking agreeable it makes my skin crawl. I'm literally begging you to have literally any ownership of your thoughts. I'm literally begging you to say literally anything."

Reality goes to Mt Nothing and her name is now Girlfriend

Dear Reality It's your friend Soo-jin
Are we even friends? At one point I was your best friend. And now you treat me like nothing. BC you finally have a boyfriend for the first time in your life. It's not that interesting to be regularly fucking someone. Having a boyfriend isn't an identity… LMK when you're ready to be my friend again. Honestly IDK if I want to be your friend again. LMK when you're ready to grow up

"I loved you in college. You were always wearing skorts and shaving different parts of your head. You listened to music on a Walkman even though no one did that anymore. Everyone thought you were a genius," said Soo-jin.

The little smiley faces scattered in as paragraph breaks have shifted to sad faces ever since Volume 2 started, after Ariel agreed to be her boyfriend and she started taking those drugs from the ad.

Ugh. I tried to not let Soo-jin's comments bother me, because it was so clear that she was jealous, but I felt sad. Me and Soo-jin had been through a lot together. Each time I got raped in college she was always so nice to me after.

Soo-jin looked at me and said: "Girl, who dressed you? You look absolutely insane. In a bad way. Are you OK? You smell like alcohol and also a locker room. Is that guy you're dating abusing you? He really looks like a school shooter."

Besides Soojin's art projects, which were mostly pictures of Lord Byron in the nude, everything was how I remembered. There was my twin bed, which had a quilt that I took from a homeless guy who didn't need it anymore because he was going to die tomorrow. … A pile of my weapons: my seventeen knives and seven sticks I had sharpened with my knives.

I never gave her permission to just turn my bedroom into a kind of salon d'artiste. This was not Paris 1899! It was actually a hundred and twenty years later!

A journey to the deli to pick up sustenance for Ariel who needs to grade NYU papers. Encounters a French sculptor on the way.