Trainspotting
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 a starter home. choose your friends. choose leisurewear and matching luggage. choose a three-piece suite on hire purchase in a range of a 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 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.
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