Sometimes when I'm alone and nothing happens, I can almost feel the present crushing me like a trundling tank. When I think too much about when exactly is now. Time slipping by just as I try to define it. It feels as if time has left me behind and the world has moved on, my temporal body ripped from the physical universe.

What happens to the past? This may sound very 1984-Orwellish as well, but really, is the past nothing but a collection of memories? It's very unsettling, to know that right now, you only exist now. That if time chose to forget you, you would cease to exist.

What if all you've experienced is the narrow present?

What's unsettling is not so much the disappearance, but the clean lack of any remaining mark left behind. The temporal loss of permanence