this is to jimmy eat world, and those nights in my car.

I have this feeling that sits in the pit of my stomach and rots away at the inside of me. I don't know how to describe it other then that. I don't believe it has a name. It's just a feeling. Maybe it's a need to tell someone that I havn't been able to stop recently, and it's not like I want to die because I love my life and everyone in it. Run on sentances seem to be the only way I communicate anymore. I'm proud to be able to say I'm not suicidal anymore, I don't want to die. Every day I wake up, glad to be awake, glad to be alive. I might wish to be somewhere else, but that's because the other half of me is there. So I'm not unhappy. But I just cant stop it. It might be because I get bored. It might be because I need to see results instantly to feel like I've accomplished anything. And none of these reasons will feel right to the people who they matter most to. All of the reasoning I give for what I'm doing are invalid to everyone but me. And for once, I dont feel like I have to explain a damn thing to anyone.

That's a lie.

Let me rephrase.

I dont HAVE to explain. But I WANT to.

Make sense? No? Oh well.