Our Fragile Little World

Not as much a poem as it is just reflective thinking.

Some say only memories will last. I find this to be false. The less they interact with me in my present life so the less they seem to appear in my past. Often I can scarcely remember things about them that previously would have been instantaneous. If the person fades, as do the memories, what then is left? Only the memory of a memory. As we erase them from our present lives so they are erased from our past. So it is with her. As the days turn to months and the months to years so my memories of her fade. What once seemed an integral part has become naught but a distant memory. However this leads me to a perplexing question:

What then is the reality of the things we perceive around us? Our little worlds consist only of what we know. If people or things begin to fade from our memory it's as if we are erasing them from our world, our reality. This is both comforting and frightening. It is comforting because within our own little world we can control what or whom exists. It is comforting because we have the ability to control our world. It is frightening because of the instability of our world. Ever changing and shifting, we may never know what really is. Our perceived reality, no matter how convinced we are, has no bearing on what really is. How can we be certain of anything?