Coping mechanisms
“I think everyone goes through a Xanax phase.” It’s 9 a.m. and we still haven’t been to bed. On his porch he’s sitting to the left of me; Butters is at my feet. Directly ahead and about a foot away, there’s a metal patio table. This section of the porch isn’t covered, which is probably why there is so much rust on the table. The rust is clearly visible despite the fact that someone, perhaps a parent of one of his fuckboy roommates, had covered the metal frame and table top with black spray paint in an attempt to freshen it up.
