Memo Zero

Thirty-seven days before the end, the ring finger of my left hand disappeared out of thin air. Thirty days before the end, my sense of taste disappeared. Fifteen days before the end, no one around me seemed to remember me, and I seemed to be the only stranger in such a big city. Ten days before the end, there seemed to be something wrong with my memory, and I couldn't remember anything from the past. ... Five days before the end, I felt I had to record it all. I didn't know what was going on and if anyone could help me. I don't know if the end has come or not. Time is very vague here. So, who am I? What is the end?