Distractions & The Male Monkey Patrol

It seems no matter what I try to do, or to accomplish, I always screw up. Either I forget something, or I can't concentrate, or I'm not able to understand. Unfortunately all of these things I have tried to overcome, but have failed. Even now my body is filled with a numbness that blocks out all other thought and understanding. I can here the noise of the people chattering around me, but I am unable to comprehend what they are saying without pausing my train of thought in this writing and calculating their odd and primitive sounds into comprehensible language. This repetitive halting of my train of thought is forcing my writing to be just as broken as my concentration, and to run off course. The numbness is now pressing itself on the frontal lobe of my brain. My eardrums are ringing from the overload of ignored sounds and my eyes are itching to lower and close. It feels slightly like I am no longer part of my body, and yet I'm more than aware both mentally and physically that it is most definitely holding onto me. My brain needs sleep, but even if I had the chance, I doubt I'd be able to lull myself into the sweetened state of unconsciousness that I so crave. But, enough of the red herrings. I am, inevitably, a screw up. Perhaps I need some drugs to stamp out this problem. After all, it has been following me for about half of my life, so I'm sure I deserve the Prozac more than most. Still another 50 minutes left. Did I mention I was in English? Well, I am. Slacking away the time I could be using to finish my essay or something, but I can't concentrate on it! I can barely concentrate on getting out the random thoughts that are popping into my brain. I might as well do something with this time, and getting my thoughts out may as well be it. Did I ever say that most of my internal writing is done when I'm in this state? Yeah, probably why there are so many run-on sentences and forgotten or incomplete thoughts (insert collective sigh here.) So, I have a banana.

The male monkey patrol seems to have found out about this banana and the word of it is spreading life wildfire. I might write a letter to the boy who had founded the banana tree with me, but I'm thinking talking to him face to face is a better decision. He's the one who first dropped the banana. Now the other monkeys know about the banana, when the banana tree was supposed to be ours alone. Now the male monkey patrol is sure to be after me. And I never ever told any monkey in the female monkey patrol, and THEY are the trust-worthy ones who I feel would keep my banana safe from harm. So how the hell is it that the male monkey patrol knows but not the female? It's a terrible situation I've gotten myself into.