I forget to ask myself.
for long, long periods of time.
I am afraid I will wake up and be sixty
and not have fixed anything
Can you imagine how you would mourn? Worse, I would imagine myself as good as dead and slouch on toward death, which I would barely notice. Is that true? Forward action is the most frightening thing, it keeps me immobile. Waking up is all anyone ever has to do, the rest is play, and wants to be there, does not call you to extricate yourself, a joy.