Write me an overly-dramatic inner monologue about how thirsty I am. Write 2 paragraphs.  End the monologue with me finally walking to the fridge and getting something to drink.
I am so thirsty. When was the last time my mouth was soothed by the sweet, delicious taste of liquids? Days? Weeks? It feels like an eternity. I can barely remember the last time I drank. I can hardly recall the feeling of it coating my tongue and soothing my parched throat. I would give anything for such relief, to vanquish the thirst I have long endured. I may have to undertake a seemingly impossible task -- an arduous journey from which I may never come back. I must make the perilous trip to the refrigerator, and seek the nourishment I so desperately need.  

My first challenge seeks me out quickly: the stairs. I am not prepared to meet such a formidable adversary, so early in my quest. Nonetheless, I must power on, before I succumb to my thirst. Clinging to the railing, I can feel my life ebbing away with each step. After what seems like an age, I reach the final step. I stumble forward, still clinging to life, and there it is -- the fridge. I feel like a weary traveler, wandering the barren desert and stumbling upon a beautiful, lush oasis. I fling open the door with my remaining strength, grasping the bottle of soda in the door. Hurridly, I unscrew the lid, and let the sweet nectar fill my mouth. It is done. My thirst is quenched. 