intensely dull

How can live be so fucking intense and so incredibly dull all at once. How can I be high on reality, strung out on the smells of spring and bored as hell, all on one day. Is it this very contradiction in our live that defines us? That separates us from the animals. Is bliss just one perch away? But we go on with our machine like lives where even wonder and amazement become predictable and repetitious until we just can’t stand it anymore.