In the name of living forever, I did stupid things and I did meaningful things. But at some point, the logic of mortality simply collapsed inside me. The idea that one could live a good and satisfying life within the confines of, let’s say, 80 years, while knowing you’re heading, with each passing moment, towards your own oblivion, became an absurdity. It wasn’t so much a question of whether immortality was possible as whether mortality was tenable. And it was not.