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My plan, my great wondrous scheme, involves corrupting the Ebbinghaus Illusion, surround myself with better memories now, so that in casual conversation I might appear more content than I can truthfully claim, so that in my daily rote I might continue my casual mistakes, so that in my later years I might reminisce about some memory that then seems better than it actually was at the time.

I am not one to hold onto every detail, but neither am I likely to give up the worst if it is near to my heart, especially if it is bad for my health, and if I am not rocking quicker in my rocker than the other abandoned grandparents, I will be sore with regret.

I have a few mistakes left in me yet. Got some things I'd like to see. Have no intention of entering the afterlife with any confidence at all.

Occasionally, though, I am awfully proud of myself whenever I do not say out loud what I am thinking, or god forbid send it in a message.