"Hey. How’s it going? Are you on your second packet of smokes already? It’s only noon. Don’t glare at me. Hey, what’s with the bags under your eyes? There is such a thing as too much partying, you know. And stop chugging down all that bourbon just to prove something. And the pills on your jacket pocket (you know, the one you sew into the inner lining so your mother wouldn’t find out), I don’t think they’re good for you. I know they’re not good for you.
Don’t tell me to fuck off, you child. You don’t know shit.
I know that life can fuck you anyplace, anytime, and without permission. And no matter how much crap and poison you put in your body, they won’t wash out life’s cum stains. They’ll just infect the wound.
You say you want to live fast and die young, and then stick a cigarette in your mouth and strut out the door.
Well honey when you die you don’t get to strut. You stagger, and sometimes not even that.
I loved this boy once. He had green eyes and a straight nose and a mind full of stars. But he wanted to live fast and die young-just like you, funny isn’t it, isn’t death so funny and cool and alluring and oh so tragicaly beautiful?- so he did what you do.
And the stars in his head went out and collapsed into themselves and became black holes and ate him up.
And his green eyes became red rimmed at first and then milky white and foggy, and he couldn’t see me or recognise me anymore.
You know what’s gonna happen if you live fast and die young?
You’ll stay in that dead-beat, no-good town for the rest of your life.
You’ll never see the world, or a terrible storm, or a breathtaking sunset.
You’ll never fall madly in love and burn with the intensity of it.
You will simply exist in a drunken, high, drug induced stupor, glassy eyed and drooling and having seizures and blackouts and cutting your own skin and forgetting your name. You will lose yourself and all you could be and all that scattering of your soul will have no meaning whatsoever, and the void will never fill up.
And then you will die.
You will die young, and some might cry, and some might say you were nice, and they’ll give you six feet of earth to rot in.
And that will be all. You will have died young and burnt out, a nameless, meaningless black dot in the vast radar of the world.
And you will not have lived fast.
You will not have lived at all.
So how about you rethink that motto?"