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.
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