The propensity of life's indigence leaves you to ravish in its small prosperities leading to the question where does it all stop?

Is our entire life a battle between the two with an improbable nay an impossible outcome of one beating the other?

I suppose the best one can do is to cash out when the cards are hot.

But doesn't it all seem so futile, essentially what have we done different from the 7.3 billion other parasites all clawing there way to something unknown? What are we fighting, crying and dying for?

Do we even know? Why do we even bother smiling when we know the next minute we're going to bawl?

Isn't the nefarious elation and depression just an elongated version of a manic depressive. So why is one considered a taboo and a disease while the other called life?