A couple of weeks ago, I made a shocking discovery about my life. I was sitting on the couch in my living room, avoiding homework at all costs (as usual), when I decided to get nostalgic and flip over to Nickelodeon.

Ah, who am I kidding? Nickelodeon is playing at all times from at least one of the TVs in my house.

Anyway, I was half-watching, half-texting when the single greatest show in the history of television opened with its signature and oh so familiar theme song.

Be honest with yourself.There was a time when you would lose your voice screaming, “Aye-aye captain,” and days were lost trying to mimic Spongebob’s esteemed nose flute.

My discovery came during the poignant episode “The Fry Cook Games.” Spongebob and Patrick were wrestling, when Spongebob pulled out a pencil and cleverly erased part of Patrick’s nametag, making his name appear to be “Rick.” This infuriated Patrick, who screamed, “MY NAME’S NOT RICK,” before lunging at Spongebob.

This hit home because I’m very used to being called “Jimmy” or “JR” or “Jimbo” as opposed to my actual first name (and yes, it is Jimmy Ray, no hyphen).

It was then that my discovery hit me in the face like a brick wall.

I am Patrick Star.

Granted I’m not a pink personification of an echinoderm with a low IQ and no shirt, but I maintain that the ideals portrayed by the sea star live on in the real world through yours truly.

Think about it. The show launched in 1999, a year after I was born. The creators obviously realized that Patrick’s embodiment was finally among us, and brought the show to air.

Patrick has also provided laugh after laugh for almost 200 episodes now, and I myself am quite a jokester, which annoys some of my teachers, just as Patrick incessantly annoys Squidward.

Patrick and I both are always trying to get to the bottom of things, whether it be examples of an instrument (not mayonnaise or horseradish apparently), or why certain teachers may give me certain grades on certain assignments.

The inner machinations of both my mind and Patrick’s mind are enigmas, as I often have no clue how I get from point A to point E without touching all the points in between, and Patrick often gets confused when opening jars, returning home to strangers under his rock and trying to walk through doors with wooden boards nailed to his head.

For hours, I could list off specific reasons (our mutual interest in food at 3 a.m., our celebration of Scandinavian holidays our knowledge on Wumbology), but I would like to also point out that Patrick stands for perseverance and optimism.

No matter what is happening around him, Patrick stays happy and carefree and can make light of any situation.

Though I don’t want to toot my own horn, I pride myself on my ability to keep my head up and a smile on my face no matter what life throws at me.

And if you still don’t believe me, just ask the magic conch.