I could be toiling away, working furiously and feverishly in some makeshift dungeon. I could be the first person to devise the plan, gather the resources, develop the skills, and do the necessary work to ensure that I will live forever.
Instead, I'll sit here, wasting my days, wasting my life. Smart enough to conceptualize immortality, too fucked up to act on it.
I will die, like everyone else who has done the same.