His body ached in ways he had forgotten it could. How long had it been since he last went for a run this long? He was sure it was months at least, but the pain that had taken hold of his lungs as they begged for air was too great to really figure it out in his head. If he didn't know better, he would be sure he was dying. He wasn't dying, but that hardly mattered at the moment. His head was swimming; it was hard to concentrate on anything, making it ironic that he went on this run to clear his head. He wanted to think about things, be alone, and get exercise, and the best way he knew to do that was to go for a run.

He could only guess how long it had been since he left his house, and he wasn't completely sure how far he had gone. Judging by the sun, it had been nearly an hour since he left. It was always easier to tell the passage of time as the sun began to set late afternoon. He wiped the sticky sweat from his brow, not wanting it to trickle down into his eyes. The warm summer breeze hit his skin. He was glad the wind picked up a bit. Even if it was a warm breeze, it cooled him as it blew on his sweaty skin. It did nothing to release that sticky mat his shirt had become.

He half wondered what he was doing. Was he running away from his problems? Or was he simply running them down so they were easier to deal with? Possibly, he was just trying to tire himself so that he wouldn't have the strength to worry about things. People often told him not to worry, but he often thought that it was easier for them to say that than to live it. His sister often told him what would be would be, and he couldn't help but think that was another way of her telling him she had no idea. He released a heavy sigh and looked at his surroundings for the first time in a while. He was lost again.

Lost may not be the correct term, but it would be what most people would call him. He didn't think he was lost, merely unsure of his current location and what the best way to return home would be. He knew which direction home was, but he didn't know which streets would lead him there. Instead of taking the time to carefully map out in his head a course that would bring him home, he just picked a street and began walking. As far as he was concerned, he would find his way back as soon as things began to look familiar. Besides, he gave him more time to be alone.

In some ways it was strange that he craved being alone so much. He spent a good deal of time wishing he were not alone, but often dreamed of marriage. Of course marriage was rather impossible for him at the moment, for, besides multiple money problems that he was currently working on solving, he was also at present incredibly single. That fact alone often prevented him from such things like dates and cuddling and the like. It was often reported to him that it was not that he was not attractive, nor was it that he was a bad person, but rather he had yet to find the right girl, or woman in this case, that would love him for him and be his one and only. He couldn't help but notice his very same such advice came from people who were married and he felt they may be a tad bit bias in their opinions on the subject.

He shook his head, wondering why his mind had returned to relationships and the want of them. That was not the reason for his run. No, something else was bothering him. Sure, the want of a girlfriend had often driven him to long runs and even longer walks, but not today. Today was special. No, today he was trying to decide why he has his longing in his heart. He had felt like something was missing for some time, and he wasn't exactly sure what it was. Not too much had changed recently, nor had he had some break-up or ugly fight. It had just been, lately, he felt a longing that bit at his very soul. It was like a part of him was missing. Not that it had been ripped away, but rather that it was never there to begin with. It was like a hunger no food could satisfy, a longing no music could cure. He would lay awake at night, longing for something he could not obtain. He wanted something so badly, but he was not sure what it could be.

He had ruled out guilt some time ago. He had, at first, thought that maybe he had done something that he felt guilty about and his conscience would not leave him peace with which to sleep. He was wrong however. He knew it was not guilt for he had looked deep within and found nothing. Actually, no soul searching was done, he had just thought at length about his deeds in the past few months, and he knew that he had tried to find forgiveness for his wrongs. Guilt was not the answer. So the solution had to be elsewhere.

It was not that he wasn't tired. Overly tired was more like it. He found himself falling asleep at all hours of the day. Evening would roll around, and suddenly, his energy would come from nowhere and he would be unable to sleep most of the night. He had tried exercise, reading, eating, drinking water, everything he could think of. It may be worry that keeps him awake, he had thought, but his worrying spells came on and off so they were less likely the case.

While lost in thought, he somehow found himself at home. He wondered how he had managed the feat, so lost in thought as he was. He wondered if homing pigeons experienced the same thing. He looked behind himself, simply to see if anyone had followed him. As usual, no one had. He let out a sigh. Part of him had wished someone had followed him. He could rush inside, maybe fumble with his key a bit. He thought of the panic he could work his body into. What if someone had followed him? Maybe they wanted to rob him, or worse? He was already safe inside his home, getting ready to shower. Yet he couldn't stop thinking about the what ifs. Maybe they weren't following him, just some homeless man bumming his way through town, or some crazy person that had arguments with himself. And that is when it donned on him. He wanted a change. Not a change of clothes, but a change. He want to not feel the hurt he sometimes did, and he really wanted the migraines to go away. For now, he would have to settle with a shower.