The room around her was completely devoid of light, but through the black shadows she could still see the thin, ripped up magazine pages that were stapled around her room flutter in the wind her fan was creating. Heaving a sigh, she flipped over on her back, giving a quick glance to the digital clock on her cable box-- its bright yellow numbers told her it was 11:19-- before she averted her gaze to her magazine-papered ceiling once more.

She was exhausted, but she still could never fall asleep easily. Though the girl was only fifteen, she felt as though she were eighty; each passing day made her feel more and more tired, even when nothing particularly awful was going on. Though at the beginning of her second year in high school all she worried about were project due dates and testing scheduals, school work seemed to be at the bottom of her list nowadays; through her own hidden depression, she felt the weight of suicidal friends, dangerous friends, and friends in danger-- everything seemed so complicated, now. The days of shamelessly laughing with a clear mind were gone; though she still laughed, something was always keeping her in the darkest pits of confusion.

Why did everything have to be so complicated? Where had the innocent days gone?

Her fan rustled more papers around, and for a moment she regretted stapling every corner of every page like she had once considered. But that was soon a fleeting thought, and she smiled to herself, remembered the days when she had gone numb with fear as the slightest noise in her bedroom. With her innocence, most of her fears had been extinguished like a flame under assault by a fire hose. Though she minded not her newfound bravery, the child-like mindset she had abandoned had been the one thing keeping her sane; now she spent restless nights tossing and turning, worrying and whining to herself over things she hoped she'd never have to face after this year. Of course, that hope was always under deep belittlement; she knew very well that things would only get harder-- perhaps more than she could ever imagine.

But hope was hope and it would kill her to abandon it completely.

Another glance to the clock made her groan; it was 11:30, now. That was only five and a half hours before her phone alarm would begin to sing and vibrate and tell her she needed to get up. The girl sighed, brushing her dark bangs from her eyes. Why did school have to start so early? It was only another thing to make her weary. Sometimes she believed that it was only there to make her tired; other times she came to her senses and realized how lucky she was to have school and how important it really was.

This was not one of those times.

Her eyes fluttered open and closed for a few more minutes, and her mouth hung slack in boredom; maybe she should get up and study-- at least her time wouldn't be wasted, then. But, somehow, she lacked the drive to get up and pull on the unicorn-shaped ceiling fan light pull she had attatched years ago; getting up would require effort, something she definately lacked.

"God, mind, shut up..." she said aloud, her own voice startling her a little. Her hand insinctively attatched itself to her temples and her fingers began to massage them. This was begnning to make her head hurt... Why was she so jaded? Fifteen and she already felt as though she had lived a lifetime. Why was she worrying about going to funerals of her friends while other kids her age were looking for their next pot fix? She sometimes wished she had the kind of courage to do the bad things kids her age did; but then she would come to her senses and realized that she was better off this way.

But she still wished for it, sometimes.

"11:38!" her clock flashed at her, a constant reminder of how much she was failing at something as simple as sleeping. Her body ached for rest, but her mind kept going, replaying every jaded thought she had thought in the past year.

Why does no one listen when I try to help them? Are my friends really going to die? If I died, would someone care? Thinking and reading the things I do will send me to hell, won't they? God is understanding, isn't he? Why can't I just shut my mind off for awhile? I'm so tired... I can't keep this facade up for much longer. I wish I had someone to talk to, but I have to help everyone-- I can't ask for help myself. Is she really going to be okay if I just stop talking to her? I can't emotionally deal with another person's problems anymore... Why are parents phoning me to ask me to stay friends with their kids? I don't understand anything... I hope she was just kidding about killing everyone. I can't take being yelled at again. Why is she always such a bitch to everyone? I hate that I'm so boy-ish... I'm not gay, why does everyone think I am? Why can't I be like her... She's so perfect. I'm so envious. I'll go to hell for all the jealousy I have. I'm really tired... I'm so tired...

She felt her eyes begin to prick up and fill with salty tears. Why was she crying? Just because she had problems to deal with didn't mean things were bad. Thigns could be worse and she knew it.

But, nonetheless, she heaved a shakey breath. She knew what she had to do. It was the only thing that ever calmed her down.

The girl, tears still dripping from her eyes, opened her mouth and began to sing. At first it was a quiet note of a song she hadn't listened to in years, but she gradually progressed to more recent things and even things she made up on the spot. She went from German songs to Japanese songs, to French songs, to English songs she was embarrassed she even knew. Each note made her fatigue ebb slowly away, and gradually she began to feel her heart rate go down.

"If I rubbed myself in lies, would you take a second look?

If I turned around in circles, would you finally close your book?

If I dug my eyes out and smiled, would you offer me your hand?

If I cut myself for you, would you fly me to your land?

It isn't a bad habit, if I only do it twice.

I'll multiply the two, and 12 more will soon suffice.

I'll just spin around and giggle while the noose goes on my neck.

I don't mind dying much, since I'm basically a wreck.

If I hang around above you, would my feet not touch ground?

If I'm covered in a bedsheet, do I have a chance at being found?

If I die of suffocation, will I have colour in my face?

If I give myself a bandage, will the gauze even have a place?

Though I cry myself a river, I think I'm still alone.

The illusion of reassurance is shattered by a moan.

I'll just tie myself a knot, and you'll have to realize,

That all that blood around you was once all in my eyes." The melancholy tune rang out through her empty room, and her voice resonated off the walls and back in to her ears. She disliked her voice usually, but this song had always fit her voice. When she couldn't sleep, that song always held her as though it were a living, breathing person trying to reassure her. The meaning was deeper than she had first thought it was, and she liked it a lot. Even though she had trouble making sense of it when she first heard it, once she got the sad, slow, almost pained rythym in her head, she had never been able to fully get it out.

She smiled, yawning. Her clock now read 12:05. She had 4 hours and 55 minutes, now.

But, somehow, even knowing she had wasted half an hour singing herself in to a calm state, she was content. Sure, if anyone asked her why she had stayed up so late she would never tell them the real reason, but she supposed that everyone had a private way of making themselves feel at peace.

Her dark, heavy eyes fleeted for a moment to the digital display on her television cable box.


She smiled, yawned, turned over, and contentedly fell into a deep slumber.

Author's Rant:

I... I don't even know. I guess I was having trouble sleeping and I sing myself to sleep all the time, so I decided to... kinda... write it out. It's a dumb idea, but I needed something to do. XD; Honestly, that basically is a normal night (and the times were every time I looked at the clock while I was typing XD), so I'm not sure if it all makes sense to someone who isn't listening to my head every night. Even so, I'll post it 'cause... I don't really know.

"Lyrics" are mine. I made them up on the spot, so it's nothing... even really noteworthy, I don't think. I'm not much of a lyrical person, as is probably evident, but I did my best. XD;

But, I seriously have 4 hours and 48 minutes before my alarm is going off, so this isn't spell checked or anything-- please excuse my sloppiness.