But now I remember, of course, I'm never going to be old.

Everything is very nearly over. And so none of the normal rules of behavior apply. And so none of my actions can have consequences.

I tried to think of a vice I want to sacrifice, and ended up reasoning that I need my bad habits, desperately, just to coax myself through each day.

I think: by the time I'm old, nobody will be able to die any more.

I know with unqualified certainty that I want to die. But I also know with equivalent certainty that I won't do anything about it. That I will only remain here and wait for death to indulge me.

But I know I will do neither; nothing. I have all the time in the world, and yet, I can't be bothered.