This is your life and it's ending one minute at a time.
The things you own end up owning you.
Just once, I'd like a regular, normal Christmas. Eggnog, a fuckin' Christmas tree, a little turkey. But, no. I gotta crawl around in this motherfuckin' tin can.
It's only after we've lost everything that we're free to do anything.
Listen up, maggots. You are not special. You are not a beautiful or unique snowflake. You're the same decaying organic matter as everything else.
- You're the wrong guy in the wrong place at the wrong time.
- Story of my life.
Oh man, I can't fucking believe this. Another basement, another elevator. How can the same shit happen to the same guy twice?