Trainspotting (the movie)


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 payments.

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.

Chose D.I.Y. 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. Pissing your last in a miserable home; nothing more than an embarrassment… to the selfish, fucked-up brats that you’ve spawned to replace yourself.

Choose your future.

Choose life.

But why would I wantto 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?

Una respuesta a Trainspotting (the movie)

  1. demongibrid dice:

    Creo que necesito una vida. . . o coca o mota u hongos o una vieja, …

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