Someday I’d be dead without a scar and there would be a really nice condo and car. Really, really nice, until the dust settled or the next owner. Nothing is static. Even the Mona Lisa is falling apart. Since fight club, I can wiggle half the teeth in my jaw.
Fight Club by Chuck Palahniuk (via thechocolatebrigade)
Maybe self-improvement isn’t the answer.
Maybe self-destruction is the answer.
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