a walking memory

how can we live for the present when it doesn't really exist? now is merely a fleeting moment, like each of the alphabets i'm typing now. now instantly becomes the past, a memory.

the past is infinite, the future is infinite, the present doesn't exist. the strange bit is that the past influences the present, and the present will in turn affect the future. the present is the most crucial bit, but it doesn't exit.

so what are we? we are all memories, in our own minds and in the minds of others. who we are is what who they remember us to be. if no one remembers you, then you might as well have not lived.

sometimes i wonder what happens when two memories meet? do they exchange sneaky glances? do they stop to say hi? or do they just walk on by, oblivious to one another? after all they do not really exist, right?