Retail Therapy

Choose life. Choose a network. Choose a spyware-free life. Choose a product. Choose a fucking big television, Choose washing machines, cars, compact disc players, and electrical tin openers. Choose spammy newsletters, effortless memberships and freebies. Choose fixed- interest mortgage repayments. Choose any kind of mortgage repayment as long as you get your fucking cut. Choose a starter home. Choose your friends. Choose to piss on 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 at your computer telling us how sick you are like we give a fucked monkeys arse. Choose rotting away at the end of it all, wondering how your commissions are doing, 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?

I chose not to choose life: I chose something else. And the reasons? There are no reasons. Who need reasons when you've got scumbags for 'friends'?