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 ‘ey mist’ah - i don’t s’pose y’got a light?’

starting conversations with random people in the park might have been alarming to some but it was normal to her. she enjoyed the exchanging of ideas a bit too much.  so when she sees the blonde male she strikes up a conversation; he seems bored anyways. ‘’ow much d’ye wanna bet tha’  f’ree  outta  those  seven nineties throw backs only know ‘bout music from the early two-f’ousands?’

 ‘still annoyin’ though, like, people ‘ave become so desensitized t’ah  shite tha’ they lost compassion and relatability. it’s sad.’

 ‘i’m not ‘xactly sure which looks more fit, ye tattoos or ye ‘air. i mean,  y’look like a badass ‘onestly.’

lost, that’s it - she’s fricking lost. so what’s the best course of action on a night like this?  go  to  the  nearest  club,  get drunk, and wake up in a new location with hopefully better luck.  how she’s survived this long is anyone’s guess.  it’s  a  dingy place with a loud bass and the unsavory types; but she doesn’t care.   reason one hundred and seventy five that if she makes it to thirty it’ll be nothing short of a miracle. sitting at the bar she can’t help but raise a brow at a man that sat a few stools away. ‘what ‘appened t’ah ye face?’

Why is no one obsessed with me? I am adorable and ridiculously interesting

 ‘listen,  jus’ ‘cause i’m a wander’ah don’t mean i’m workin’ fo’ someone  so get off my back,’ it’s rare if ever that josephine comes out with some  kind of tone like that, ‘just a wrong place at the wrong type, strung up on  bad luck s’all.’

 ‘y’know sometimes i f’ink a bomb could go off in the cent’ah of the  city - and rath’ah than help people most would just tweet it.’

 ‘moth’ah      ’ she’d tripped and her drink had gone flying. story of her  life. ‘i am so sorry.’