Choose life...

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 leisurewear and matching luggage.
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 mouth.
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 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 somethin' else.
And the reasons? There are no reasons.
Who needs reasons when you've got heroin?


(Nota: Quien publica este blog no está a favor de la adicción a la heroína. Solo ilustra este espacio con el monólogo inicial de la película "Trainspotting")