It's also hard to imagine a day after I've died. Everything that has ever happened with out me there, is irrelevant to me, only the things that I've seen, experienced, felt for myself are real. Every book, every movie, every song, whether fiction or fact, the characters don't actually exist. The tragedies, the comedies, the romances, are only ideas that enter my mind. Some of the ideas stay, set up house, rearrange the person I am, into something new, and other ideas they leave without another thought given to them. There is no external world to me. It is only raw data streaming into my mind. When I die, my world disappears, ceases to exist. Life ends in my world, the sun stops shining, the stars fade, the earth dissolves into nothing. Everything dissolves into nothing, and then even the concept of nothing is gone.
Were any of the things I saw real? Are there other people experiencing their own world too? Does their world exist when mine stops? I don't know. Every bit of the world I've ever known has always existed within some form of myself. How could it possibly exist without me?