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From The Blaze:
The stall doors in public restrooms are often a depressing sight. Graffiti left with a permanent marker or as scratches sharing reputation-ruining information or sad details that someone felt they couldn’t share with anyone beyond the bathroom door and everyone who would subsequently read it.
Such was the case for a stall at an unnamed university. But on this stall was also a sheet of ruled notebook paper with a letter addressing some of the confessions — and not in the sarcastic, hard-hearted way like we might be accustomed to expect of a note left on a bathroom door.
Ah yes, bathroom graffiti. You know that old saying: “Since writing on bathroom walls is not done for critical acclaim nor for any financial rewards, then it is the purest form of art.” Or something like that. Whatever. As a guy that has no problem throwing down in a public restroom, I have been exposed to all kinds of racist, repulsive, hilarious pieces of scripture, and feel I have a good understanding of what is written in the men’s room stalls.
That being said, ladies, I have never seen any “confessions” posted anywhere in the guys’ room walls. Scratch that — “I plowed _________’s slam at Fall Formal” pops up from time to time. But we all know that is bullshit, right? Babe? But seriously girls, what are y’all doing in there? Is this common? So many questions, my main one being, what are y’all confessing to?
Here’s the letter:
To the girl who was raped: You are so strong. I cannot fathom the pain you must have gone through. The fact that you have the bravery to write it (even on a bathroom wall) gives me hope.
To the girl with eating disorders: I promise you, although I don’t know you, you are beautiful, you deserve your health. You deserve freedom from that hell.
To the girl with the alcoholic father: I am so sorry for the agony it must cause. Again, such courage is remarkable you must be such a strong person to see such pain.
To the girl whose father died: Missing them never goes away. The ache of their absence never goes away. But the love they had, the memories you share surely must last. I am sure, out of the bottom of my heart, the people who have left you in this world are exceptionally proud of the person you are.
Everytime I see these walls, these confessions, I feel so blessed to know I have the priviledge of seeing them. Your moments, these secrets, are all precious even though they are sad. To all of you (including those I did not mention, and those who have not yet written)
– You are worthy.
– You are strong.
– You are brave.
– You are loved.
– Somebody cares.
Mother of God. Okay, well I’m not even going to touch that one. To the anonymous shitter psychiatrist: good for you. Hopefully the girls that confessed these tragedies see this note and it brightens their day. The only thing I can say is that if I were to write a note addressing some of the issues and topics posted in a typical men’s room stall, it would probably go like this:
To the guy who drew a penis: Great work. You truly captured the male reproductive organ in its rawest form. The veins and hair accents made me question if this were a drawing, or if an actual disembodied cock was in here with me.
To the guy who drew a bigger penis labeled “mine” with an arrow labeled “yours” pointing at the aforementioned: We are all very sorry about your small dick. Don’t let it get you down. I hear some girls are into that sort of thing. Maybe. Somewhere. I hope.
To the guy who wrote “Sigma Nu sucks goat cock”: Pics or it didn’t happen.
To the guy who wrote his ex-girlfriend’s phone number and labeled it “call for a good time”: We did. A lot of guys did actually. Sorry y’all broke up. Move on. And get tested. She was a whore.
To the guy who drew yet another penis, except this one is in the act of facialing a stick figure with pig-tails labeled “your ex” with an arrow pointing to the phone number: That one is mine. I’m not proud of what I did, but at the same time, I really am.
That’s about as deep and confessional as it’s going to get on a wall within three feet of where guys take buddy shits and laugh at their own farts. Just to be sure I did some investigative journalism and checked the men’s stall across the street. “R.I.P. to my green pen” was written in green pen. What the hell were you about to do to that pen, bro? Like I said, there isn’t a whole lot of good things going on in there.
Yeah there are also the usual racist remarks and swastikas strewn about, but that’s neither here nor there. Those are the lost souls not worth reaching out to via note left-in-the-bathroom-therapy. I mean if these stalls could talk…well they would probably get arrested and booked on racist sex offender charges.
But finally, to the guy that still drops his pants to his ankles at the urinal in the public restroom and pees belly out like he’s seven: Carry on, that shit is hilarious.
[via The Blaze]
Image via The Blaze