It's strange that I am me and not anything else, and anything else isn't me. I certainly feel real, everything feels real, and I'm sure (as in it's a strong feeling I have; it's a fact from my perspective and I'm not a solipsist) every other sentient being is truly sentient like I am. But what am I, trapped in this body and have this ego? Why am I this particular "me"?

Contemplation lead me to think all that has been said. That I am not what I feel to be, but am something which can't be comprehended or felt at all - the 'I' before the ego one. And since it's what's causing the experience of being born as this sentient being thinking about all this as years go by, it isn't entirely wrong to call it 'I'.

The ego, sentience and all experiences are, for the lack of a better word to use, feelings which the feeler (and the source of it) is having.