Choose life. Choose a job. Choose a career. Choose a family. Choose a fucking big television, choose washing mashines, 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 leisurewear and matching luggage. Choose a three-piece and suite on hire purchase in a range of fucking fabrics. Choose DIY and wondering who the fuck you are on a Sunday morning. Choose sitting on that couch watching mind-numbing, spirit-crushing game shows, stuffing fucking junk food into your month. Choose rotting away at the end of it all, pishing your last in a miserable home, nothing more than an embarrassment to the selfish, fucked-up brats you have spawned to replace yourself. Choose your future. Choose life.

 

But why would i want to do a thing like that?

 

I chose not to choose life. I chose something else. And the reasons? There are no reasons. Who needs reasons when you've got heroin?

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a by writemesoon, Sicily a by writemesoon, Sicily a by writemesoon, Sicily a By writemesoon, Sicily a year 2000