fresh pavement, inky black, and bright yellow lines. Being the only car on the road, because it's midnight and I should be going home. I should be going home. But instead, I'm going to nowhere.
I can't find nowhere.
...
It's called being burned out and having it come earlier than it did last year. It's called being stuck on a middle ground between everything and nothing, and the line's become so blurred that crossing it isn't very difficult. You don't even realize you're doing it half the time.
Good things can come out of bad days, though. They can. They can, they can.
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