I don't exist

I don't exist, apparently. I've seen the science, it's most convincing, I am, quite simply, an impossibility.

They say my molecular structure can be recycled, as a new source of energy. Maybe, next time you shave, your electric razor will be powered by me. By the remnants of my impossible essence.

I'm making assumptions, of course. You might have a battery-operated shaver, you might favour the wet shave, or you may be of the bearded variety. You might even be a woman, anything's possible.

Except me, apparently.