I often wonder if my life is real. What if I would just be a memory of myself in the future
(so this present time i call upon myself now would be just a memory some reflection on the past memories of my life. my present would then be some musing i am having in a future to be looking from my memory point of view)
? If I am now just a memory not a reality
(just a half reality reason why i cannot feel plenty of things because i cannot remember them from my memory in the future the one that creates this present this half reality)
, who I am, why am I thinking about myself and why does it feel like it's never going to end? I am a memory of myself, if i don't wake up. I don't know my self, just as present
(glimpse of it)
is my own memory. I am a vague dream, a notion lost in some freudian interpretation. Who am I whilst I collect the memories of the 26th year. Who am I now looking upon my youth? How old I am?