Riddles, entropy, regression and Valentine

You pick up riddles along the way. You do not understand them, not yet, yet they awe you so, bind you in mystery and hope. You cannot leave them behind, forget, ignore - so you pick them up and take them with you. Your bag, your history is a set of partially solved riddles, most of them opaque, some translucent, a few clear. The clear, transparent ones you hold dear, for they are the evidence of your persistence, of hope not unfounded, of mysteries answered. Life can only be understood backwards; but it must be lived forwards. (Søren Kierkegaard)

You may hope for the day when nothing surprises you anymore. You may hope for the day when entropy tends to nothingness. Equivalently, you may hope for the day when life is ready to slap you dead. When your bag is empty of riddles, when things are clear as they stand, in point and past tragectory , but with no spice of mystery for tomorrow, you have but two options. To find new riddles by noon, or freeze the game by midnight. For then, you would know that life is ready to slap you dead.

But while you have riddles, you are a busy, murmuring, humming human. You wonder the whys, you sigh the is-it-this-is-it-that-think-think-thinks, you whisper the ah-of-courses, you wink the twinkles in your eye. You are constantly trying regression on seemingly random riddles. You are constantly discovering curves to connect your seemingly random history. You are constantly unraveling the proof, backwards.

You have choices, which you exploit. You look to fit your hypotheses by tampering with the course of your life, so that tomorrow, you may whisper the ah-of-course you think you've been close to for quite some time now. Oh fool, fool you, but so human, you. Tomorrow, you find that something has gone quite wrong - something unexpected has happened. Your choices have spawned new riddles, your hypotheses are not quite there yet. Disappointed? But no! You have, oh fortunate one, stumbled upon the very means to keep you busy! You have stumbled upon a perfect plan to deny life slapping you dead.

Epilogue. And one day, after a taunting, exciting fight with your existence for a good many years lived well, Riddle No. 313* answers itself, suddenly, with a flash of genius insight into the phenomenon Hypermetropia. And you read -
"Riddle No. 313, oh elusive one, you have tormented me day and night, given me reason to scream and cry, wreaked my mind with countless euphoric orgasms of thought eurekas, seen me grow from boy to man. Today, you lie vanquished, and I sigh, with a nostalgic calmness, forever indebted."

* Find j.