Describing inexplicable thirst and its irreconcilable implications

There is a perpetual dryness in my mouth, and I notice it from the moment I wake up until it becomes the last thought I have for the day. It has become a sort of pattern to find myself thirsty at any given moment in the day.

And so I usually begin the day in search of a drink—little or no sugar, not thick, and slightly warm. I raid the shelves for teabags or powders I could use and boil water for preparation. The tea I get is slightly fruity, and I decide that it’ll have to do.

Not nearly an hour of preparation later, and my head tells me I need something sugary now. There is milk, which will do for a while. After dealing with the morning traffic, I am parched; It’s a good thing the vendos are so convenient, I think.

It turns out vending machines are evil, at least for the time being. I feed it money, and it gives me nothing, so I decide to go for the more reliable plan—vendors. I buy a bottle of iced tea and down it before class starts.

When brainpower is involved, there is an exponential increase in thirst, and so I become increasingly conscious of how dry my throat gets during the lecture; I try as much as possible to save my saliva for when it’s needed.

Class is over, and I need another drink. The water fountain is so conveniently-placed and even though pure water is not typical for me because of its wanting nutrition value, I go for it. It’s startlingly tangy, which I find pleasant.

Breaks usually take as little mental activity as possible, but that is not the case when it comes to interesting people—curiosity only makes me thirstier. I wonder if it’s a metaphor. I don’t dwell on it and go for a soda, even though it means walking some distance and then back.

Depending on my temperance, a drink can last anywhere between under a minute and a full hour; I wonder how much of my body is liquid. At some point before the next class, my bladder alerts my consciousness of its capacity, and I decide to pee.

It’s always a clear liquid, if not just tinged with some yellow. I wonder where the color goes. And I get thirstier, but it’s time for class. I suck on my teeth and get my saliva swirling around to compensate for the dryness that seems to creep in.

When lectures are loaded with thought-provoking questions, I get excited. Excitement makes me ask more questions in the confines of my mind, and the metaphoric thirst for knowledge translates as an actual, physical thirst. I ponder on psychosomation and if it’s even a word.

The mid-morning classes end, and it’s lunch break; I head for the cafeteria. My choice in meal hinges on whether it comes with a free drink; if it does, I am more inclined to going for it—the taller the glass, the better.

We are not allowed to drink during our afternoon classes, yet I find myself reciting the most due to the lack of spit or coherent liquid-fueled thought. Our professor runs on coffee; I run on anything else that’s liquid and potable.

Before being picked up for dinner, I find a vending machine that isn’t evil and feed it money in exchange for a soda. I down it all within the minute and think about why in order to down a drink, it must be thrust upward.

We’re having dinner out, and I make sure I get a bottomless drink—this restaurant offers bottomless iced tea for thrice the price of one glass, so I figure it’ll take three glasses to break even. The food is inconsequential.

By the end of dinner, I drink five glasses, leaving nothing. Contented burps make their way up my throat, and I find myself full as well as hydrated. By the time we are halfway to home however, my throat dries, and I think about which drink to drink, the brainpower requirement of which makes me even thirstier.

At home I find myself wanting to read, and the more I read, the more I drink. The more I question, the more metaphorically-then-presumably-psychosomatically thirsty I become. I wear myself out by trying to sate the thirst, but I usually get a drink for last anyway.

This night, it’s milk. I add chocolate syrup to make it sweeter and hope that I can fall asleep soundly. Dreaming probably makes me thirsty while I’m asleep. I’ll have to figure out if that’s metaphorically-or-otherwise true one day.

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