I imagine that every one of us,
on our deathbed,
will realize that we took “ourselves” too seriously.
– That the “I” was a fiction of my own imagination.
A nothing. An idea. A cartoon character;
a Mr. Potato-Head.
And I imagine that every single one of us;
once we come to terms with that reality;
the mutability of the self;
will say, with some regret:
“why did I not dare
to create something more of this Self?
Something more distinct?”