Fight Club

It's only after we've lost everything that we're free to do anything.

This is your life and its ending one moment at a time.

You know how they say you only hurt the ones you love? Well, it works both ways.

You are not your job, you're not how much money you have in the bank. You are not the car you drive. You're not the contents of your wallet. You are not your fucking khakis. You are all singing, all dancing crap of the world.

You are not special. You're not a beautiful and unique snowflake. You're the same decaying organic matter as everything else. We're all part of the same compost heap. We're all singing, all dancing crap of the world.

The things you used to own, now they own you.

Today is the sort of day where the sun only comes up to humiliate you.

Ok. You fuck me, then snub me. You love me, you hate me. You show me a sensitive side, then you turn into a total asshole. Is this a pretty accurate description of our relationship.

At the time, my life just seemed too complete, and maybe we have to break everything to make something better out of ourselves.

Only after disaster can we be resurrected. It's only after you've lost everything that you're free to do anything. Nothing is static, everything is evolving, everything is falling apart.

We've all been raised on television to believe that one day we'd all be millionaires, and movie gods, and rock stars. But we won't. And we're slowly learning that fact. And we're very, very pissed off.

Warning: If you are reading this then this warning is for you. Every word you read of this useless fine print is another second off your life. Don't you have other things to do? Is your life so empty that you honestly can't think of a better way to spend these moments? Or are you so impressed with authority that you give respect and credence to all that claim it? Do you read everything you're supposed to read? Do you think every thing you're supposed to think? Buy what you're told to want? Get out of your apartment. Meet a member of the opposite sex. Stop the excessive shopping and masturbation. Quit your job. Start a fight. Prove you're alive. If you don't claim your humanity you will become a statistic. You have been warned.

If you don't know what you want," the doorman said, "you end up with a lot you don't.

I let go. Lost in oblivion. Dark and silent and complete. I found freedom. Losing all hope was freedom.

It's not love or anything, but I think I like you, too.

If I could wake up in a different place, at a different time, could I wake up as a different person?

You buy furniture. You tell yourself, this is the last sofa I will ever need in my life. Buy the sofa, then for a couple years you're satisfied that no matter what goes wrong, at least you've got your sofa issue handled. Then the right set of dishes. Then the perfect bed. The drapes. The rug. Then you're trapped in your lovely nest, and the things you used to own, now they own you.

I’ve met God across his long walnut desk with his diplomas hanging on the wall behind him, and God asks me, “Why?” Why did I cause so much pain? Didn’t I realize that each of us is a sacred, unique snowflake of special unique specialness? Can’t I see how we’re all manifestations of love? I look at God behind his desk, taking notes on a pad, but God’s got this all wrong. We are not special. We are not crap or trash, either. We just are. We just are, and what happens just happens. And God says, “No, that’s not right.” Yeah. Well. Whatever. You can’t teach God anything.

I see in the fight club the strongest and smartest men who've ever lived. I see all this potential and I see squandering. God damn it, an entire generation pumping gas, waiting tables, slaves with white collars, advertising has us chasing cars and clothes, working jobs we hate so we can buy shit we don't need. We're the middle children of the history man, no purpose or place, we have no Great war, no Great depression, our great war is a spiritual war, our great depression is our lives, we've been all raised by television to believe that one day we'd all be millionaires and movie gods and rock stars, but we won't and we're slowly learning that fact. and we're very very pissed off.

The lower you fall, the higher you'll fly.

Maybe self-improvement isn't the answer, maybe self-destruction is the answer.

May I never be complete. May I never be content. May I never be perfect.

The things you own end up owning you. It's only after you lose everything that you're free to do anything.

I am Jack's complete lack of surprise. I am Jack's Broken Heart.

Everyone smiles with that invisible gun to their head.

Advertising has us chasing cars and clothes, working jobs we hate so we can buy shit we don't need.

We are not special. We are not crap or trash, either. We just are. We just are, and what happens just happens.

The girl is infectious human waste, and she's confused and afraid to commit to the wrong thing and so she won't commit to anything.

I wanted to destroy everything beautiful I'd never have.