How do you know you exist? René Descartes ones put it down this way: Cogito, ergo sum. You don't understand Latin? Sorry about that. Well that can be translated to: I think, therefore I am. Just as simple. The concept of thinking is correlated with existence. But is that true? I mean can plants think? I don't, yet, believe so. Still can we ever deny plants' existence? Leave plants for a second and consider non-living matter. Like a book. Does a book think? No. Does it exist? As long as I can trust my eyes and my capability of stereognosis, yes. It certainly exists. So existence mainly doesn't depend on thinking or, in other words, cerebral activity. Then how can I prove I exist? Or most importantly, how can I prove I am thinking?

Obviously whoever is reading these journals of mine must think I am losing it. However, if you can relate, then I propose you see a therapist too.

I once asked daddy if he believed in aliens. He said things like those don't exist. I asked why. And he said we know they don't. I decided to gamble on his patience and push the matter again. I asked how we know they don't exist since we haven't been to all the cosmos. He shrugged and seemed ready to just drop the subject and tell me to go play with my new teddy bear, but then our eyes met and he stared for a second with furrowed eyebrows. Then his features softened and he caressed my hair smiling and said, "You know what, I don't know that. I don't know if they don't really exist. And no one knows for sure. But I believe one day we will. Or at least you will. Will you go to the space for me and tell me if you bump into one of these folks?"

I nodded eagerly. That moment. That vivid memory. That exact second was the only time I knew what I wanted. I wanted to go for an alien-hunt. Four months later dad died. Mom too. Aliens weren't real.

Now that brings me back to that same question. How do I know I exist? Maybe I don't. Just like daddy. He didn't know. We've got lots in common. Except that I doubt he ever took a life.