calling all consciousness, the brain wants you back

I should revel in the fact that this moment of immersing myself in words I don't understand will be gone in a few months' time. But I just don't understand what I'm supposed to convey in this "reflective exercise" and I'm stuck here in the library holding onto my head and my heart lest they fly somewhere else again and again.

Why can't there be 48 hour days where I can have enough time to exercise (including time for dragging myself out of bed and motivating myself limply), enough time to cook and eat, enough time to compose a perfectly articulate essay, enough time for a nap, enough time for coffee with friends who have rendered me missing, enough time to browse around boutiques and bookstores, enough time for a hearty laugh and a slap and enough time to bury my toes in beach sand, and top it all off with lip-plucking chocolate cherries as I fall into bed, deep in slumber and anticipating another 48 hour day.

but given the chances of this happening, I have better luck finishing my essay in 48 minutes.