In fact, with practice you may find yourself making nods to plenty of things you haven't done yet, all of them personal in-jokes, writ large across the story of your life. You'll perfect this talent and hone it to an art form and you'll feel accomplished (and congratulate yourself several minutes beforehand).
But then comes the day when you start crying, and you don't know why. You'll feel frightened and alone for reasons you don't understand. You might run away. You might kill someone. In the end, it doesn't matter.
Those feelings, for those couple of weeks when you're still alive and still "you," come from your future. They're warning signs that something's been reading the story of your life, and that it's chosen to rewrite the ending.
Suicide will seem favorable, but you'll be unable to commit it. The loop must be closed, and the hands made of wood and history, reaching calmly from the future, will already be tying up all of the loose ends.
Two hours before he grabs you and the loop finally closes, you'll feel relief that it's finally over. One hour before it, you'll have forgotten who you are.