Here's to the nightmares.

The average person falls asleep in 7 minutes. If 7 minutes is the time the average person falls asleep, why are my eyes still open at minute 18? Why are my eyes tired at minute 2? Why doesn't this make sense and why are my dreams not real, but at the same time they're too real?

I thrash around sometimes, and get tangled up in the blankets until I'm immobile. My eyes shoot open and I'm breathing hard and hoping no one is lurking in the shadowy room I call "mine". All my fear comes out in my breath and I feel a scream in my throat, begging to be let out. But I can't let it out, it would wake up everyone and I want to call him, except it's 3:18 am and he probably doesn't want to hear about my nightmares. 

I said stupid things and took things the wrong way and everything is wrong -- maybe that's why I have nightmares. Maybe that's why I don't sleep soundly. (What does that even mean?) I question everything and only know one thing for sure:

I exist. 

That should be obvious, yet it's news to me. It's news that plagues my thought process. 

"We're all friends here, so let's share our inner thoughts." Except I hate 7/8 of the people here, and I don't know the other 1/8. I won't ever share anything with them. I didn't sign up for this. Get me out of here.

If I'm forced to say something, I'll say the only thing I can choke out, "I'm here, I exist, my heart is beating just like yours. But that's all you'll ever know of me."

The clock will tick, the cricket will sing, and after that moment of complete silence, I will receive a standing ovation. 

"Encore! Encore!" they'll sing, hands slapping together in a rush. "Encore!" 

I'll bow and I'll say something else, "My bones might be white, but they might not. I can't say. Only my dreams nightmares will tell me."  

The crowd will scream for more. But I'll walk away, and lose myself in somebody else's daydream. 

I'm tired, my eyes are drooping, and I lay on the floor in my clothes, my mind going at 82 mph, constantly being filled up with worries and hopes and disappointments. 

Maybe one day I'll fall asleep at minute 7, or maybe I won't. Why is it so important to me, anyway?