Choose life. Choose a job. Choose a career. Choose a family.
Choose a freaking big television, Choose washing machines, cars, treadmills and tins of tuna. Choose good health, low cholesterol and dental insurance. Choose high-fat low-carb. Choose a steak. Choose your friends. Chose cauliflower. Choose leisure wear and matching luggage. Choose a three piece suite on hire purchase in a range of flattering fatty 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 junk food into your mouth. 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 needs reasons when you've got junk food?