There is next to no current proof of my existence to any of you.

As far as any of you know, I am a name. An alias, behind which an unknown person types. That person may change, be automated, or might be even more mysterious than that.

I called a person. Some random person, I don't know who, on a public telephone. It was an old one, in a booth. Nobody would hear what I was to say.

The person picked up.

"Do you know who I am?" I immediately asked.

"...No, you don't sound like anybody I know."

"Do you have caller ID?"

"Yes-"

"You are recording this?"

"No, why would-"

"Then you have no proof we ever talked. Time passed by, you will remember the event, but you cannot tell anybody this happened and prove it. With sufficient time, perhaps even the memory will fade, and there will truly be no proof. Even if you do not forget, when you die, any sign that I called you will disappear."

I hung up.

Now I have wasted your time reading bullshit.

On that subject, maybe none of you exist and I'm writing something to absolutely nobody, and in reality I'm an insane fucker on an island in a sea of deadly land baptised by poison and radiation. In that case, fuck all of you nonexistent figments of imagination.