How do we know that our life really happened and that we are not simply accumulating details, making it all up as we go along?

I laughed when I read about being born with two hearts, one of which is devoted only to destroying humanity.

I can’t imagine what it would be like to have sex with a man. To be so intimate with another person. Not to hide anything. I don’t know if I could do that. It would have to be a boy anyway, not a grown man, someone as scared as me.

Girls are always saying things like, “I’m so unhappy that I’m going to overdose on aspirin,” but they’d be awfully surprised if they succeeded. They have no intention of dying. At the first sight of blood, they panic.

How do we know that our life really happened and that we are not simply accumulating details, making it all up as we go along?

.. the truth is what you can't see but are certain of anyway.

Why should I be sad? Everyone has to die. If you have a body, it's too late to cry. It's only funerals I can't stand.