Proof of Life
There's an exchange in the film Lost Highway that has always stuck with me as it perfectly sums up my feelings on the matter. It goes:
Ed: Do you own a video camera?
Renee: No. Fred hates them.
Fred: I like to remember things my own way.
Ed: What do you mean by that?
Fred: How I remember them. Not necessarily the way they happened.
Aside from Pop Culture Tragedy, which for all you know may be completely fabricated, there is little documentation to prove I exist: a social security number, a credit card, some cigarette butts in the ashtray.
For all I know, I'm the figment of my imagination.
But here's one for the file, at any rate.