I keep staring at the ceiling. trying to find something there. a sign? an answer? just anything other than this. this…weight. it's not even sadness anymore. just heavy. like concrete settling in my bones. I run and run and run, but I can't outrun it. the half marathons are just a temporary reprieve. a way to feel… something other than this dull ache. but then the race is over, and I'm back here. staring at the ceiling. waiting for… I don't even know what I'm waiting for anymore. maybe just for it to stop.