I'm imagining that I am old and grey, and possibly dying, and I am regretting not living for myself.
Not that I am a selfless person now, but that there is an endless duel between serving self and serving others. It is wearing me out, in all honesty. I would like to acquiesce to every desire of the flesh sometimes, not even for the sake of slaking of my selfish drives but so that there is no internal conflict within my tired heart.
It all reminds me of an old Ray Bradbury tale in which all of the men on a spacecraft are cast out into space and left to die.