Choose life.
Choose a job.
Choose a career.
Choose a family.
Choose a fucking big television, choose washing machines, cars, compact disc players and electrical tin openers.
Choose good health, low cholesterol, and dental insurance.
Choose fixed interest mortgage repayments.
Choose a starter home.
Choose your friends.
Choose leisure-wear and matching luggage.
Choose a three-piece suite on hire purchase in a range of fucking fabrics.
Choose DIY and wondering who the fuck you are on Sunday night.
Choose sitting on that couch watching mind-numbing, spirit-crushing game shows, stuffing fucking junk food into your mouth.
Choose rotting away at the end of it all, pissing your last in a miserable home, nothing more than an embarrassment to the selfish, fucked up brats you spawned to replace yourselves.
Choose your future.
Choose life...
But why would I want to do a thing like that?
I chose not to choose life.
I chose somethin' else.
And the reasons?
There are no reasons.
Who needs reasons when you've got heroin?
- 'Renton' boy, Trainspotting
Saturday, June 23, 2007
Who needs reasons when you've got heroin?
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1 comment:
Your blog keeps getting better and better! Your older articles are not as good as newer ones you have a lot more creativity and originality now keep it up!
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