Sometimes I wonder if, at 52, it still makes sense to hold myself back. To suppress the urge to give in to madness, vice, and fun. I know I don’t have many years left. My kidneys and heart are damaged from 35 years of medication and excess. At best, I have five years left. At worst, ten, and I say at worst because that would mean five more years of deteriorating quality of life. Parkinson’s is already showing, cognitive decline is obvious, and my memory is failing me.

Why hold back now, at the final stretch? Why keep taking medication instead of fully embracing the few moments of euphoria I have left?