Figment

I am a figment of my imagination, meaning I do not really exist. I only imagine that I exist, that is if my imagination is real. Right now I am sitting on the deck with my wife, or at least I imagine that I am. She is wearing a brown sweater, green blouse and blue jeans.... if she is really there. We just ate pepperoni pizza.... or am I imagining that?

The reason I know that I am only a figment is because no one can really see me. For example: today I was at a corner where there was a double left turn. The lady in the car on my right crossed over into my lane as though she never saw me. When I honked at her she did not even acknowledge that I was there. Maybe I only thought I was there.

Then at the store when I was crossing an aisle, a lady with a shopping cart pushed it right at me as though she didn't see me. I tried to get out of the way and get around her. But where ever I went she aimed the cart right at me. It's as though I was not there. Maybe I wasn't. Maybe it is all my imagination.

At the store I found my wife and asked her if I was here. She said, "Where?" It was as though she implied I really wasn't there. I must have only imagined it. In reality, I don't exist.

But maybe I do. If you are reading this blog it must prove that I really do exist. That is.... if you really exist. Maybe you are just imagining you are reading this blog. Better pinch yourself. Then imagine that it hurts.