YOUR advertisement actually made me vomit

What’s more, I saw that this death, unlike the death of bronze coffins and waxy lilies I’d first encountered at five, spoiled utterly, once grasped, whatever life preceded it, just like knowing the alarm clock will buzz in 47 minutes spoils utterly the last hour of sleep. Every one of the fifty or so years I had left would now, I knew, be that last hour. Every one of those fifty or so years was now a priori pointless, was as good as lived and deleted. Because the next fifty years would go by at least as fast as the last thirty. Because the screaming panic that would be my last experience of the world (there was no way I was lucky enough to die in my sleep) was on me already.