Might as well

Why? Why keep going? I've asked myself that countless times. I mean after all, what is the point? I still don't know. And I don't know that I ever will, even after this. And I'm okay with that. Most days. And other times it's like a loose screw, bouncing around in my brain, just looking for a fucking hole that fits. Anything. Anything close to concrete that makes any kind of sense. And it bounces. And it bounces. Hits. And it sticks. Tries to settle in. And then the thread slips. It goes cock-eyed. Gets plucked out. Starts bouncing all over again. Because nothing quite seems to fit. And I can't help but wonder if it isn't all bullshit. But the sky was pretty tonight. And my dogs expect food in the morning. Maybe I can piss someone off tomorrow. There's always reasons to keep going.