A light shone in the dark room, only the deep, sleepy breathing of the soul tapping the screen of the lighted phone could be heard. Suddenly the light disappeared and blackness enveloped the room.

I can't sleep.

A deep sigh escaped his lungs and he closed his eyes. Suddenly he sat up and threw the covers off of himself. He ran his hands through his shaggy hair.

I should either cut this hair or figure out a way to tie it back when I sleep. Maybe plait it.

He staggered drunkenly to his feet and headed towards the bathroom, all the time trying to figure out why sleep wouldn't come.

He flicked on the light switch and squinted at the sudden brightness.

Could it have been the tea I had after supper? Am I really getting so old that I need to be worrying about caffeine?? Surely not! But these days...

He shivered and regretted that he had not thrown on his bathrobe before leaving his room. It was always chilly at night in his house. He looked in the mirror. Bloodshot eyes gazed balefully back at him, screaming so loudly for sleep that they had produced a throbbing headache behind them.

"Ughh..." He groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose as he leaned away from the sink and turned off the bathroom light. Feeling his way through the dark hall, he made his way back to his room and once more collapsed on his bed.

After feeling around under his pillow, he found his phone again. He unlocked it, set it on "sleep" mode, and turned it over on his nightstand.

"I suppose I shall have to have a lie in tomorrow, I'm so knackered!" He mumbled to himself as he rolled over and hugged his pillow.

He closed his eyes.

And waited...

But nothing.

He rolled over.

And waited....

Still nothing.

He counted sheep...

...35, 36, 37...

And rolled over...

...112, 113, 114...

Fluffed his pillow...

And rolled over.

Waited...

Ahhhhhhhh!!!!!!

Angrily he threw his extra pillow at the wall and heard its soft double-thud as it bounced off the wall and hit the floor. He snatched his phone up and looked at the time:

2:46am

"Why!?" He sobbingly moaned and buried his face in the pillow.

You know why.

He furrowed his brows overtop of his still-closed eyes.

What do you mean I know?

Don't play games, you are me and I am you, so we know the exact same things.

He rolled over on his back and pinched the bridge of his nose again.

I really have to stop talking to myself...

Don't change the subject! You know exactly why you are not sleeping.

Fine then. You tell me.

Something's bothering you.

"Is there something bothering me?" He said aloud. His headache was getting worse. He opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling, flicking a few stray locks of hair off his face as he lowered his arm.

Well, what if there is something bothering me? What good is it gonna do to just know that somethings bothering me? I don't know WHAT is bothering me!

Yes, you do...

No, I don't.

Think about it.

"Ok, you know what...? That's it." He unlocked his phone and began drowning his disturbing inner conversation with Twitter. He thought of tweeting something like, "can't sleep" but he knew that would just send off a firestorm and he really didn't feel like the drama right now. After casually liking a few tweets that instantly had dozens of more likes, he moseyed on over to Instagram. He found some funny things on there, but before long he found some disgusting jokes...memes with his face featured as the brunt of the joke. They thought they were being funny and hey, he even found them amusing sometimes or at least pretended to think they were, because it isn't cool to not be able to laugh at yourself, but right now...

It's all getting to you.

"K, just, err!!" He fumed and quickly closed Instagram. He went onto Wattpad, under a secret name that, somehow, no one had figured out yet. He decided maybe a classic like Romeo and Juliet would put him to sleep. He had lots of intense reads on the go, but he decided he needed one that he knew what was going to happen so why not? Maybe the poetic lilt and rhythm of the words would help him feel sleepy.

He fluffed the two pillows that still remained on his bed and placed them behind his head, laying on his right side and scrolling with his left hand. The night wore on.

The phone finally fell out of his hand and onto the bedspread, his thumb bumping the screen as it fell, highlighting a random phrase:

A rose by any other name would smell as sweet.