My Book Of Poems

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I can't remember the past, not because I don't want to, but because I simply can't.
Each memory is blurred, almost subdued in my mind, as if from another lifetime, and the girl in there, well, I can barely recognise her.
My life feels like snippets of jumbled up recollections of who I used to be, the current being, sitting here, writing this, is barely a person I know ,nor understand.
When they say 'live for the moment',it's all I ever do, because I won't know this me, or understand what she is... was, feeling, a few 'mes' from now. The irony of it is almost comical, a phrase of complete freedom , the lock to my cage, my mental subjugation.

I don't know if this is a twisted form of lifelong identify crisis,or it's just all in my head. And in case you're wondering, yes, this is a cry for help, tell me what's real and what's not, please tell me you feel this too and help me sort out my crazies...

Or don't.

Not much of a poem,I know. Just something I needed to get out there.