Future Self

Just a quick musing about fearing regret in the future

I ask him "What would you like"
I'd like to not regret
When I become him
Spending my time trying to forget

But his answer is silence
The answer is inferred
"Whatever you don't do"
A paradox so absurd

He's pretentious and impossible to please, that future self
I can know it here and now
Because he's just me in a few dozen years
With extra wrinkles on his brow