I should be doing homework but trust me this is really important.
There was this building next to the mental health center, the one next to that barbecue place with the giant horse on top. And I used to get dropped off there in between the two buildings, where there was a little alleyway just wide enough for a car and there was some form of construction going on.
The funny thing about this place - this kind of stuff is always funny - is you'd go in and pay five dollars to talk to somebody and the change they'd give back was always this awful, torn-in-half kind of money that'd never even come close to a vending machine. And in the waiting room everybody either read newspapers or magazines or untied and retied their shoelaces, and the little kids would play with the terribly beat-up toys that'd never even come close to a thrift store. And you could always tell who was waiting for someone else.
But anyways, on the wall of this building - the one next to the center - there was a sentence.
Seeing the people in the waiting room though, I mean come on, there are kids in there. You can't just close down the entire mental health center because the answer's painted on that wall. You can't do that.
I guess this isn't as funny as it was at the time. You're just going to have to trust me, it was hilarious. I forgot about it until now. I should've gone back to get a better picture but by then I had already figured out the second part.
You'll laugh later. You'll laugh when the man with the socks on his hands holds open the door for you and you'll laugh sitting inside the barbecue place with the giant horse on top. You'll laugh. Honest.
There was this building next to the mental health center, the one next to that barbecue place with the giant horse on top. And I used to get dropped off there in between the two buildings, where there was a little alleyway just wide enough for a car and there was some form of construction going on.
The funny thing about this place - this kind of stuff is always funny - is you'd go in and pay five dollars to talk to somebody and the change they'd give back was always this awful, torn-in-half kind of money that'd never even come close to a vending machine. And in the waiting room everybody either read newspapers or magazines or untied and retied their shoelaces, and the little kids would play with the terribly beat-up toys that'd never even come close to a thrift store. And you could always tell who was waiting for someone else.
But anyways, on the wall of this building - the one next to the center - there was a sentence.
Life suck. Deal with it.
Life suck.
Life suck.
This is really important. Do you understand how important this is?
There were these windows in the rooms and you could look down outside at the building next door and there it was. It was the answer and it was staring you right in the face, unpunctuated, unprecedented. Life suck. Deal with it.
If we could just deal with it, right?
Like, how hard can it be to deal with how much life suck?
I guess this isn't as funny as it was at the time. You're just going to have to trust me, it was hilarious. I forgot about it until now. I should've gone back to get a better picture but by then I had already figured out the second part.
You'll laugh later. You'll laugh when the man with the socks on his hands holds open the door for you and you'll laugh sitting inside the barbecue place with the giant horse on top. You'll laugh. Honest.
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