Euphoric exhaustion

This has, in all honesty, become one of my favorite hobbies; I feel blogging is the only platform through which I can express myself. Of course not everything that is uttered from these lips is of importance, as a matter of fact it very seldom is. Still, most times after my fingers type the last few words, the insides of my body, those unseen and domineering emotions that guide many of the actions in my life, suddenly cease the tremendous gusts that have rhythmically accompanied my emotive breathing during those moments.
The new fresh breath that enters my body and circulates through my system is cathortic; the page before me which a short while earlier laid naked in the vast world of cyberspace had morphed into an extention of me. Now it's almost as though the fingers were the ones controlling everything, my brain isn't sending signals to the arms, hands, etc. No, there can't be any throught in the release I'm experiencing now. The index, middle, ring and pinky fingers run through the keyboard like militant soldiers on the offensive, pressing, pushing, darting keys against an invisible enemy. Breathe.
Nothing has ever given me this high, or low, in my life. Immensly gratifiying and joyful thoughts are now perspired through my pores and breath, my skin glimmering with the plenitude of liquid secreting along the top until enough has gathered to march either one by one or in large groups toward the invitable gravital pull of the earth. Melancholy engulfs me as more and more drops fall dead silent onto the ground; I want to put them back inside me and fulfill the emotions they had evoked in me so many other times.
Those days are gone, never to come back; before my eyes my sweaty euphoria is consumed by the earth and arid heat. Exhaustion overtakes me, my body weakening from the tirades brought on by excessive and at times unachievable acts performed throughout my day. The wind comforts me, blowing gently all around me, embracing me in the cool air it brings for us to endure the Sun's unyielding and unpardoning rays. The gusts and the loose dirt form a dancing cloud near me, piroeting and grazing all around me until I am in the center of them, emotions once more rising in me, this time frantic and mournful as the particles around me are driven into my system like icepicks and baseballs in rapid and continuous tempo.
Fear suddenly and independently subsides, and the attacking wind along with the torpedoing earth vanish. Cool winds return apologetically, caressing every inch of our exposed bodies like a silk string across the open land, antipathically mocking the child behind it with each twirl. I'm distracted from the progression of objects by a plant emerging as a result of my earlier dehydration. It was reselient - it'd managed to survive when we were running all over it; it was strong too, and beautiful. I realize now that the beauty all around me, the good an d the bad, is a direct result of the euphoric exhaustion women have endured since the beginning of time.