a world of memories

I live in the world that I create. Does reality touch this world? It depends how you see it. What is reality? If the world I live in is real to me, real in that, the way I see it, it becomes my reality. So the old cliche "things are what you make of them" would be true. I can't control what people do to me, but I can control my reaction, my personal response to these things. More and more, I just let things go. I forgo lucid, vivid living for a dreamlike existence that sets me apart. Unengaged, aloof, I appear bored. Because, the day to day---that bores me. Worrying about the cost of gas. Who's writing the report, etc.. I don't really care. Worrying less amplifies the world I want to live in. The world I choose to live in. I know it's not real though. Things happen to me, but not really to me. My blank eyes take it in, and it's like a memory already. I live in memories, when more I want to live in the present. But when you live in your own reality, the present is what you want to see, and for me they are instant memories. Like dreams. It happens so fast, I don't know if it really did happen, and it's an instant memory. The way my mind has shaped reality, becomes what the present was. And the memory is something i can mould. I can choose when to remember, choose if it's important to me, choose to hold on or lose it.