choose life. choose an airline. choose an island. choose a party. choose a fucking big jacuzzi. choose watersports, cocktails, pool or ocean view, regular or clothes optional. choose BYOB and wondering who you fucked last night on a racing yacht. choose sitting in that deck chair watching artificial, plasticky bodies, stuffing caviar into your mouth. choose retiring at the end of it all, drinking tea in your extravagant mansion, nothing more than a role model to the aspiring, slick bootlickers you trained to replace yourself. choose a future. choose life ... but why would i want to do a thing like that?