even if you're immortal, you have a countable infinity of time, but every choice you make leads to an uncountable infinity of possibility. you may have an infinity of breakfasts, but you still have to choose what to eat for each one. you can choose to dedicate your life to every possible variant of chocolate, but it will still be a choice against everything else.

even if you're immortal, she still won't spend time with you, even if she has immortality as well, because she has an infinite number of other people she could be spending her time with.

even if you're immortal, you'll still live in a society: you are still a single agent, on the receiving end of a long chain of hands that sow seeds, fertilise, reap, pack, drive, mill, bake, wake at six in the morning to give you your daily bread. you will still need to work. you will still need to beg. you will still have your place.

even if you're immortal, she'll still have the charm and mystique of having lived through that much more than you. for every moment you live, every wonder you experience, she will always have the lead, and she will always look at you with that pathetic look in her eyes.

even if you're immortal, you still die in fragments. one day, you will ride your skateboard for the last time. once you read that life changing book, your life will never be the same, but your life will never 'never be the same' in the same way as it wasn't before.

if you're immortal, do you remember? they say it is a curse to remember everything: all the pleasure, yes, but also all the pain. or do you forget - and if you do forget, is that true immortality? with each new experience pushing another out into oblivion?

if you're immortal, would she choose to remember you, like you remember her?