Hurricane.

There’s a hurricane in my head. It’s always there, I cannot sleep. Sometimes it’s tiny, like a mouse. Sometimes it’s BIG, like a bear. I yell, “QUIET DOWN!” and pull my ears. It’s still there, it’s still there. I make a box, “you go in here”. It does not care, it does not fit. I grab it’s tail, I hang on tight. It whirls and whirls and whirls. I fall. I press my pillow to my ears. I shake my head and roar. It’s not scared. There’s a hurricane in my head. I cannot sleep! I cannot sleep!