Rachael descends into the abyse of nihilism

I am truly wondering if words exist in one's mind as drops of water in a pool. If too many are used at once--say, are evaporated quickly by the selfish sun on a sweltering afternoon, will there be any drops of words left for tomorrow's refreshing sip?

I have used too many of my words, too quickly, and my Brain is currently buzzing with the interminable wasteland of parched nothingness. I cannot link two thoughts together to save my life. I can not comprehend and intelligibly convey this essay I have read twice through because the 11 page paper of yesterday zapped me of my loquacious hydration.

That is why I have turned to this blog. In an attempt to irrigate my mental capacity and to coax it into working for me. I am tired of fighting with my sentance structre, my grammer, my concept. Can't we just work together--you and I--so that we can achieve that blissful utopia known as sleep? (My red-lined eyes can attest to its long absence.)

In absolute desperation, I perform a rain-dance of metaphores, of similies, of the sacred ability to formulate analogy. I will give you my first born son, of god of the English major, if only you have pity on me and grace me with words...