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Seems like this is the first paragraph of my next novel:
Some people avoided looking out there for too long, because the unconsciousness of it and the detachment with which it killed made them uncomfortable. Yet, the externally noticeable view inspired a slew of passionate considerations that freely floated through his personal mind wilderness. It was there, a veritable duplicate of what existed all around, that he constantly felt lost. As fragile as the physical form was, its most overlooked power was in confining an entire conscious universe. What if he wanted to exist out there, too?
"Never trust a fox. Looks like a dog, behaves like a cat."
~ Erin Hunter