In all the long years I had been aware of things around me, aware of myself, I had learned that likely nothing was permanent. Had it ever occurred to me that I might not be permanent? It seemed to me that I had thought such a thing once or twice but quickly turned to other subjects. Thinking of it now, I found the idea unappealing. Unpleasant. I did not want to end. But it would seem to follow, from what I had observed of the world so far, that I would.
