Sometimes I lie awake at night, wondering if anyone is thinking about me. I just want to be special. Important. There is always a few minutes when I think about people from my past and wonder how they’re doing, and how often they think about me. I wonder if they’re happier without me. Which hurts. I hate having to go to bed, because my mind likes to think about things I don’t want to. I push things away during the day to have them come out at night. I can only stare at the ceiling and hope that I’ll fall asleep soon. Which never happens because I am either too hot or too cold. I either curl into a ball or lay on top of my covers. Sometimes I put one leg under and one leg on top of my covers just to get the best of both worlds. My bed is on a wall, which is heftily inconvenient, because I sleep better when I face the wall, but I can’t because I’m too scared something will happen behind me. I can never get out of bed if I have to go to the bathroom, because I’m too scared someone is going to grab me. Which has actually never happened. Its kind of like sprinting up the stairs, and feeling a sigh of relief at the top because the monsters can no longer get you. At night, I like to put my hands under my pillow. It’s just cold under there, and I can manipulate my pillow into the perfect sleeping position. Although I can’t put my hands all the way under, because when I was younger, I swear I felt claws one night. After that, I gave up my comfort to my fears. When I was younger, I always had my parents turn on the light outside of my window, turn on my fish tank light, and my fan. Then check in my closet and under my bed, just in case. It used to be easier to sleep when I was younger, because I always felt safe when my parents tucked me in. These days, I shut my blinds, lock my window, and when I have to turn off my primary light, I turn on my lamp so I don’t ever have to be in the dark. When I turn off my lamp, its dark for a few seconds, then I feel the comfort of my night-light. Sometimes I have to sleep with the lights on, my paranoia gets in the way. My fan is always on, and I can’t sleep without it. Most nights, I just talk to myself about everything I wish I could say. Then after I have a swear-fest, I have to pray to God that he forgives me. Then I confess to him anything that happened, and I just hope for a better tomorrow. Then I turn to my Guatemalan worry doll and tell them all of my worries, hoping that by the morning they will go away. I got the doll from one of my best friends. Which was really sweet. Then when I’m done with those rituals I count until I fall asleep. I can usually only remember counting to 100 the next morning, but I guess I never know how high I can count. Of course then I have dreams about the first thing that I thought about, which is always unfortunately people from my past who’ve hurt me. When I wake up, the dream comes rushing to my head, and I swear I can smell her old perfume. Then I realize it was a dream, and it makes me really sad. Because I wish I was still there, even though I’m much happier now.