Lying on my firm cold mattress is torture. Knowing that I cannot wake up until the sun is rising from behind the fluffy clouds is like being stuck in glue, sticky and irritating. How am I supposed to just lie here and be expected to fall asleep? A bottle full of energy is dancing in my system. My energy is knocking on my stomach repeatedly wanting to come out, like a large dog wanting to come out of its kennel.

My bed is a sand pit, sucking me in, wanting me to drift into a dreamland filled with bubbles and lucky charms. Sounds pretty relaxing, but it seems near impossible. Layers of blackness fill my room like a cake, layer after layer after layer after layer; my room doesn’t want to let me go. My bed wants to wrap me up in numerous amounts of purple blankets and white sheets. It is not possible for me to escape: I will just be sucked back in. This is so unreal.