This is how I lean onto life

 Whenever I try to get into things deep down, and the more I understand the nature of everything, the more everything loses its magic over me. At this point, I refrain from anything that could be construed as living, apart from the bare act of surviving through the scorching nights. I watch, I observe, an entity different from myself, I observe life going on in all directions, cars speeding up and slowing down before destinations are reached, I observe dogs mowed down in highways, workers working in factories, mines and greyish offices where the smoke of repeating loneliness unfurls like a crumpled flag, I endure art, distinct from life in daylight and resembling the breath of terrible nights alone in ghostly apartments, I go on, because there is no other choice but going on, nothing more rueful yet divine than facing and being the embodiment of the absurd, I stumble upon stones that are days lived by great men of history and their facsimiles, and I dissolve, dissolve into the secret - the unknown fabrics of everyday, the timeless and the tedious that God created as a conscious mistake, or lullabies of dinosaur mothers gone extinct to be preserved as soundless fossils.