Recently I've realised how simple my life has been. It's not boring or uneventful, mind you. But every day I do whatever I need or want to do, then spent endless hours laying in bed contemplating the mysteries and relativity of the universe and slowly drift into madness. You'd think I'd be sick of doing that same thing over and over, but I find it to suit me pretty well.
I have concluded that we are all beings which take up hyperspace (for lack of a better term) in 4 or more dimensions. The fourth dimension, in this example, being time. Our situation is that we can only sense an infintesimal slice (the present) of our fourth dimensional length. But really, this virtually unknown dimension is what makes us who we are. Our true being is a summation of every instantaneous moment that we exist. Alex, you know what I'm talking about.
And furthermore, can't every little detail of life be considered a separate dimension? Either way, I wish Spongebob was on.