So here it goes:
'Choose designer lingerie in vain hope of kicking some life back in to a dead relationship. Choose hand bags. Choose high heel shoes, cashmere and silk to make yourself feel what passes from happy. Choose an IPhone made in China by a woman who jumped out of the window and stick in a pocket of your jacket made from south Asian fire trap. Choose Facebook, Twitter, Snapchat and Instagram and thousand other ways to spill your bile across people you never met. Choose updating your profile. Tell the world what you had for breakfast and hope that someone somewhere occasionally looking up old flames, desperate to believe that you don’t look as bad as they do. Choose life, blogging from your first wank to your last breath. Human interaction is just a nothing more than a data. Choose 10 things you never know about celebrities who had surgery. Choose screaming about abortion, choose rape jokes, slut shaming, revenge porn and endless tide of… choose 9/11 never happened and if it did it was the Jews. Choose the zero hour contract and a two hour journey to warton. Choose the same for your kids and only worse may be tell yourselves as bad happens. And then sit back and smolder the pain as unknown dose of an unknown drug made in somebody’s fucking kitchen. Choose the unfulfilled promise and what you could have done all differently. Choose never learning from your own mistakes. Choose watching history repeat itself. Choose slow reconciliation towards what you can get rather than what you have always hoped for. Settle for less and keep a brim face on it. Choose disappointment. And choose losing the ones you loved and as they fall from view a piece of you dies with them and until you can see that on one day in the future piece by piece they will all be good and there will be nothing left for you to call alive or dead. Choose your future Veronica. Choose life.'