The eternal conundrum: why do we spend all our time sleeping, yet wake up feeling like we're running a never-ending marathon?
Is it because our beds are secretly giant hamster wheels, forcing us to run to nowhere in particular?
Or do we just really love the existential horror of staring into the void, wondering if anyone's still out there?
Quantum Leaps Paralyzing Arguments Eternal Questions Nap Time Nihilism