In my sober, during the day mind, it doesn't make sense to me at all. Why I keep on doing what I'm doing. But night falls, a few tv shows pass and it all makes perfect sense. This is what I've been waiting for since the alarm clock woke me up this morning.
In any life a reason to go on is required. You simply can't live for nothing. There are all kinds of hopes and reasons the mind will fabricate. Because life is self-perpetuating. Somewhere hidden deep in the DNA of every living thing is a gene that triggers the brain to seek out and or configure such reasons. Because life was created to be life. To die eventually, but ultimately, first and foremost to live. Nature designed us that way and we grapple with that responsibility every second our heart ticks away.
Some use god, heaven, religion. Others mates, children, grandchildren. There are those who seek meaning in their careers. And others who find it in art or literature. But reason is not for all. Reason is essentially the last bastion of the hopeless. Life's refugees digging into the mud that coats the grounds of their prisons. Because this is what they know. And what lies outside those walls is uncertain.
Nevertheless, everyday, in most every life, people find or construct their reason to sustain the life inside them that begs them to. The majority obey. Those of us who don't poison it in slow doses. All the while hating how well it carries those wounds. Seeking no reason to convince ourselves we should live. But instead gathering the reasons there are to keep killing ourselves. As slowly as I will.
In every life there is a reason. Even for alcoholics.
