Are your self-immolating passions so consuming that you are left no time for peripheral needs? Or does your sloth procrastination ever indeed lead to inspiration, breakthrough, contribution? By what measure do you evaluate yourself? Is it by Christmas gifts, children or lack thereof? Is it by dinners bought and time spent? Plaques do not adorn your walls, nor stamps of approval from any institution known to God nor man. Decline, like everyone else who has ever disappeared into ether or yet will.