Choose life. Choose a job. Choose a career. Choose a family.
Choose a big fucking television, choose washing machines, cars,
compact disk players and electrical tin openers...
choose DIY and wondering who the fuck you are on a Sunday morning.
Choose sitting on the couch, watching mind-numbing, spirit-crushing game shows,
stuffing junk food into your mouth.
Choose rotting away at the end of it all, pishing your last in a miserable home,
nothing more than an embarassment to the selfish, fucked-up brats you 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?
(c)Irvine Welsh