You're going to wrinkle up in your comfy armchair in front of the telly, watching other people live their lives. You're going to waste away in the folds of your bed, the blearing rays of what used to be cathode light seeping into your cells. Inuvia, exuvia, what does it(more) matter anyway. You don't get a grade on life.
Just, the satisfaction of knowing that you're actually living.(less)