Ralentissez, s'il vous plait. Arreter completement.

Hi there, folks.
I am tired. I feel physically exhausted from all this...this. My cell cycles are all out of whack, those special math-brain-cells spending FAR too long in mitosis, trying to reproduce as fast as they can and fill themselves with all this information I know I'll never remember come Tuesday. I don't even know how to ask for help because there is just nothing that works. Nothing makes sense anymore.
Maybe it would be better if my brain wasn't currently under seige from a thousand bajillion other things, like chinook-induced headaches, sentence structure for blogging (whaddafucccck), directing my soft palette upwards while I sing, where it plainly does not want to go because I simply do not have a single ounce of energy left for that, (plainly my adrenal cortex is malfunctioning, it should be releasing cortisol in this period of long-term stress that will metabolize fats and proteins into glucose to be used by my braaaaaain), zombies (?), overexposure to nail polish fumes and/or hand lotion toxins, if they are present, which they are, maybe, I don't know, whiny country songs, whiny inner dialogue with myself, whiny outer dialogue with others (mostly Katie), missing people, missing certain people, some of who know it, and some of whom maybe don't, wanting a hug, (a really, really good hug...Hannah, I hope you are up to the challenge as soon as I see you tomorrow), maybe a nice nap, and having no clue how to properly end this long, drawn-out sentence because I forget how it started.
Can I just tell you...
No.
I can't.

That's against the rules.

I'm so tired of being lonely.