Other humans might exist as conscious entities, or they might not. But the crux—the crippling, debilitating crux—is that I do not and cannot know whether other humans exist as conscious entities. They might, or they might not, but I—by dint of simply being conscious—exist in unresolvable uncertainty.

Skepticism is primary to all Western philosophy, Ancient and Modern: in Ancient times, beginning with the Greek Skeptics; in Modern times, beginning with Rene Descartes. Yet despite the fundamental nature of Skepticism to Western philosophy, the ideas and—especially—the implications of Skepticism remain alien to most humans, non-Westerners and Westerners alike.

But not to me. They strangle my mind. They are best represented by monsters.

I am unconvinced and inconvincible that other humans exist as conscious entities. That rather hampers interpersonal relations.