The most eerie place to be is not under the bed, not locked in the dark, not your hallways at night. It's right inside your head. And we are forced there every night when we get tired. My eyelids are beginning to feel like two large bricks. My head yearns to lean against the wall beside me, but I jerk it back up. I can't see what my mind will come up with if I go to sleep, it knows my worst fears, after all. I've been doing this for hours, splashing the cold water in my face, violently shaking my head like a wet dog, anything to stay awake. I've been waiting forever for this dreadful night to blow over, but it just won't. The moon taunts me, maliciously grinning at me through my curtains. It waits for me to sleep, it wants to force me into my head again.