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 you are on a Sunday morning.
Choose sitting on that couch watching mind-numbing sprit- crushing game shows,
stuffing fucking junk food into your mouth.
Choose rotting away at the end of it all,
pishing you 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?
Irvine Welsh, Trainspotting
(via exbloodjunkiez)
