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 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 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 you spawned to replace yourselves. Choose your future. Choose life… But why would I want to do a thing like that? I chose not to choose life. I chose somethin’ else. And the reasons? There are no reasons. Who needs reasons when you’ve got heroin?

Perder Peso!

5 de dezembro de 2007

Esse negocio de trabalhar como freela pra mim não da certo mesmo. Se trabalhar como CLT ou PJ a gente já corre o risco de ser enganada, imagina quando vc faz um acordo e sem contrato? Acho que foi esse o meu erro. Confiei na pessoa errada e me fudi. Mas fazer o que, agora é ligar o foda-se e deixar isso pra la. Boa pra frente. Pra Verena eu não trabalho mais, nem com a Ana.