this one's for you, roommate

My brain hurts. I think it's going to ferment and drool out of my ears. As soon as I pick up my Latin, my brain says "no!" I can't even look at the page without my brain throwing fits. It's like a two-year-old throwing a tantrum. "I don't want to do Latin," it whines at me. "Well, brain," I say, "I'm sorry, but sometimes you just gotta do stuff you don't want to do." It writhes some more and screams at me: "No!" I wish it would drool out of my ears. That way at least it could flail around freely on the floor instead of in my head, flapping and smacking against my skull. "You haven't even read one sentence yet," I tell it, but my voice is like a lance in the side of an angry bull. "I have too been reading!" my brain whines. "I read all afternoon Saturday. I read all afternoon Sunday. And you made me get up early today and I read this morning, too. And you hardly gave me a break before going to class and taking that quiz. And you forced me to pay attention the entire time." It's been several hours since class and I haven't done any Latin since, but I've tried. I can't look at the text without my brain wilting into a pile of its own waste. "Come on, brain, let's get back to work. If you focus now, I'll let you sleep longer tonight," I say. It jerks away and smashes against the inside of my skull. "No!"

But by the grace of God I will win this war! Else I think I will make a horrible mother...