3 hours left.

Tu esti lumina, de luni dupa-amiaza.

Stop Whispering.

Vezi, îmi spuse el,
vine un moment în care durerea se schimba în indiferenta
si nenorocul
în obisnuinta
Nu-ti mai pasa cine stie ce, -
si un fel de liniste
începe sa te cuprinda
Te surprinzi, îmi spuse el,
privind prin brazi, prin cai, prin ocean
Si prin alte multe
ca prin sticla
Al tau si al fiecaruia, -
îmi spuse el,
nu se mai sprijina.
Fosta dragoste, foamea,
strigatul, îmi spuse el,
par împartite la o cina generala
Ah, dar existenta fiecarui individ, îmi spuse el
este nesfârsita si mareata
Resturile ei nu dureaza decât o secunda,
iar întinderea mortii, nici atâta.

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 mortage repayments. Choose a starter home. Choose your friends. Choose leisurewear and matching luggage. Choose a three-piece suite on hire purchase in a range of 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 embarrassment to the selfish, fucked up brats you spawned to replace yourself.

Choose your future.

Choose life.