A Life in Logic

My depression is a tightening noose,
By which, I am nearly hanged.
The concept of breaking loose,
Is one, I've repeatedly harangued.

What then is the reason to live?
Countless replies I have heard.
Yet insufficient are they that others give,
Which deem the exit strategy absurd.

Irrelevant are the references to the divine,
The pursuit of happiness, a daunting task,
Purely for loved ones, a pressured design,
And feigning joy until normalcy, a mask.

Numerous years that have been consumed,
Twisting and turning to unveil the mystery,
Undimmed and ambivalent thoughts assumed,
Despite no end to the mental slavery.

I must believe there is a universal reason,
One based in truth and not just a placation,
That empowers me to endure each new season,
With genuine effort and true dedication.

When late one night, while lying perfectly still,
When my mind most often churns,
Enveloped in darkness, drifting, until,
An epiphany arrived, addressing my concerns.

Logic is based on data's veracity.
Through patterns it predicts occurrences.
It adheres to fundamental objectivity,
And disregards emotional influences.

Emotion defies logic, habitually,
Abandoning reason and practicality,
Therefore, decisions made emotionally,
Could be capricious and reached hastily.

Perhaps there is no grandiose explanation,
That the general reason for life, is to live,
Which renders inane, all deliberation.
Thus dare I defy logic, with actions emotive?