There could quite possibly be millions of other people around the world just like me, but I'll never know. How many people cry themselves to sleep at night? That should be a poll somewhere important, like the newspaper or a web-site or something. Well, tonight's not different for me; once again, I cry myself to sleep. I hate crying, really, I do; it just makes me sad, which makes me cry more, which makes me depressed and frustrated with myself; it's just not a good thing for me, crying. This time I really do sleep. I haven't gotten "sleep" in so long. I have a strange thing where my body can't relax enough to sleep, so I don't. Anyway- I know I sleep this time because I didn't hear him come in. In my dreams, I'm fighting him, making him go away. I wake up and see him stride from the room, mayhap I wasn't dreaming. I thought it was merely a nightmare, like all the rest; I was wrong. I cry myself to sleep again, what if I hadn't stopped him? What would he have done this time? I drift to dreamland again and that's exactly what I feel. A strange floating sensation, as if I'm flying. I float (in my dream) to my best friend's houses. I visit Chandler, my blonde-haired male friend, while he watches a music video on his computer. He smiles and turns it to a Dashboard Confessional video, one of my favorites in fact.

I say quietly, hoping he won't hear me but not really expecting him to anyway, "Hello, Chandler. I'm sorry I didn't tell you what he tries to do to me but I do love you, buddy. I just need help." I sigh, "I suppose this is goodbye for now." I lift my hands and pray to God, hoping he's listening, "send someone to help me."

I open my eyes and find myself in someone else's house. I walk through this one, sure someone will notice me and say something or call the cops, but once again, I'm wrong. I walk through and finally recognize Alexis's bedroom (we call her Lex); I walk into her room and tell her something close to "'ello mi hermana." She doesn't hear me but whispers something in return like "I wish Mahina were here." Oh, she remembers me! She puts in my CD and listens to "Glycerine" by Bush and cries remembering the old times and how different things seem now. I talk to her, strangely calm, even though she can't hear me; I tell her of how I'm thinking of dying and how much easier that it would be. As I say it, I sigh, because I never take the easy way out. As if reading my mind she says, "suicide is the coward's way out." I think she was trying to reassure herself she has meaning again; she really is odd. Her life is so much less complicated and more interesting and fun. I blow her a kiss for courage and pray to my God again, "please, let someone help me."

I open my eyes to find myself at one more house, Conner's. This was one of the two guy friends who had claimed to have a "crush" on me at some point in his life. He was playing "Wish you were here" by Incubus (one of my favorite songs) on acoustic guitar. I sang along until Brandon walked in the room. He was the other one who'd had a "crush" on me; He was taller than Conner was and more philosophical. The great thing about Brandon was he could do about anything, except look cute in a dress. Conner did this well however, and found it amusing to freak people out by doing it.

"I told you, man, get over her." Brandon told Conner with a sigh of frustration.

"But she's so much like Mahina."

"She isn't Mahina, Conner."

"I know, and Mahina's just a friend… Nicole and I have such chemistry that Mahina and I would never have because we're so used to being friends… lots of chemistry." Conner said, adding the last bit with an eyebrow raise.

I said aloud, "Men and their hormone enraged penis's." I laughed at Conner; he did always make me laugh, which was a bonus.

Suddenly Brandon laughed, "Can't you see Mahina making some comment about how men only think with their penis?" Conner nodded and smiled. I grinned; they knew me so well. I leaned over and kissed them both on the cheek, a sign of friendly affection in my eyes.

I looked up to heaven, "Thank you for them, I think I can survive now."

My eyes open for the last time and focus on the four people in my room; I smile. "Hi guys. What are you doing here?"

"I was watching a music video--"Chandler said.

Alexis interrupted, "I was listening to Bush--"

"We were talking-" Conner said.

"And we all thought of you so here we are." Brandon finished for them all.

I hug them, "Thank you," I whisper and I silently say, "Thank you for remembering me."

We all lay down in my room on chairs, the floor, my bed, whatever we can grab and lay on and watch a movie, A Walk to Remember, much to the guys' dismay. You see, I had been watching this movie and feel asleep earlier, so I felt I owed it some gratitude, some reward.