This is a war on errorism.

𝒮𝓉𝒶𝒷 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝒶 𝓈𝓉𝒶𝓇𝓉𝑒𝓇!

Imagine this: You’re peaking. You’re in your youth. At the prime of your life. The last thing you want to be is a symbol of Heroin use. You’ve finally met up with somebody of the opposite gender who you can write with. That’s never happened before in your life. The only other person you could ever write with wasn’t as good a writer as you, and this person’s a better writer than you. And you’re in love, you have a best friend, you have a soul-fucking mate, and you can’t believe it’s happening in your lifetime. And as a bonus he’s beautiful. And he’s rich. And as a bonus he’s a hot rock star to boot. And he’s the best fuck that ever walked. And he wants to have babies, and what you want is babies. You’ve wanted to have babies forever. And he understands everything you say. And he completes your sentences. And he’s lazy but he’s spiritual, and he’s not embarrassed about praying, he’s not embarrassed about chanting, he’s not embarrassed about God, Jesus none of it. He fucking thinks it’s all really cool. He wants to fucking learn the path. He wants to be enlightened. Everything. And there’s even room for you to fix him, which you like, cos’ you’re a fixer-upper. He’s perfect in almost every single way. The only fucking happiness that I ever had. And then it all gets taken away… ~ Courtney Love

Far Out magazine