I wonder if anyone of you felt it.
That pressure, pressing on you, forcing you.
It has no arms, no legs. But its presence is enough to drive you crazy.

There. In the middle of a silent hall.

Thinking.

Am i screwing this up? Screwing up my paper?
At the very last moment?

Am i really determined to jog the first few laps
and walk in the last?

Fate screws me up. Big time. Great that its not the first time.

Determination wears thin. Lactic acid builds up.
When you cramp in the middle of the last lap,
you won't even be able to cry.