1
" Many of us have gotten so used to playing
to the expectations of society, of our families,
of our friends, and of our minds, that we don’t
even allow ourselves to consider who we really
are or what we really need. We ignore the calls
of our hearts, giving our lives, instead, to the
demands of an outside world built on fitting in.
We can stop this, right now. We can choose to
listen to ourselves, to heed our deepest callings,
whatever they are. We can give ourselves the
freedom to be whoever the hell we want to be
in this world. Right now, if we choose to.
And why wouldn’t we? "
― Scott Stabile
7
" Deep despair, dear Lord, deep despairMy heart yearns to be your heirBut my prayer remains unheardSpeak to me that I may hearAnd I will know that you can hearDeep despair, dear Lord Jesus , deep despair !Deep despair, dear Lord, deep despairYour voice I wait to hearYour presence I seek to be nearThat I may not live with fearAnd I will always be your heirDeep despair, dear Lord Jesus, deep despair! Deep despair, dear Lord , deep despairWhen expectations become desperationMay your might be my light That I may see you as my guideAnd do all things in your mightDeep despair, dear Lord Jesus, deep despair !Deep despair, dear Lord , deep despairMay I know who You really areThat I may know who I am really areAs I stand between my me and where I want to beIn a world that seeks hinder all I have to be Deep despair, dear Lord Jesus, deep despair!Deep despair, dear Lord, deep despairWhen all hope is goneAnd all I have leave my handsMay I smile for what you have doneAs You overcome condemnation with redemptionDeep despair, dear Lord Jesus, deep despair! "
12
" --Thing is though, Spud, whin yir intae skag, that's it. That's aw yuv goat tae worry aboot. Ken Billy, ma brar, likes? He's jist signed up tae go back intae the fuckin army. He's gaun tae fucking Belfast, the stupid cunt. Ah always knew that the fucker wis tapped. Fuckin imperialist lackey. Ken whit the daft cunt turned roond n sais tae us? He goes: Ah cannae fuckin stick civvy street. Bein in the army, it's like being a junky. The only difference is thit ye dinnae git shot at sae often bein a junky. Besides, it's usually you that does the shootin.
--That, eh, likesay, seems a bit eh, fucked up like man. Ken?
--Naw but, listen the now. You jist think aboot it. In the army they dae everything fir they daft cunts. Feed thum, gie the cunts cheap bevvy in scabby camp clubs tae keep thum fae gaun intae toon n lowerin the fuckin tone, upsetting the locals n that. Whin they git intae civvy street, thuv goat tae dae it aw fir thumsells.
--Yeah, but likesay, it's different though, cause . . . Spud tries to cut in, but Renton is in full flight. A bottle in the face is the only thing that could shut him up at this point; even then only for a few seconds.
--Uh, uh . . . wait a minute, mate. Hear us oot. Listen tae whit ah've goat tae say here . . . what the fuck wis ah sayin . . . aye! Right. Whin yir oan junk, aw ye worry aboot is scorin. Oaf the gear, ye worry aboot loads ay things. Nae money, cannae git pished. Goat money, drinkin too much. Cannae git a burd, nae chance ay a ride. Git a burd, too much hassle, cannae breathe withoot her gittin oan yir case. Either that, or ye blow it, and feel aw guilty. Ye worry aboot bills, food, bailiffs, these Jambo Nazi scum beatin us, aw the things that ye couldnae gie a fuck aboot whin yuv goat a real junk habit. Yuv just goat one thing tae worry aboot. The simplicity ay it aw. Ken whit ah mean? "
― Irvine Welsh , Trainspotting (Mark Renton #2)