Get rid of the ocean, if you ever wanna see me again.

The silence is deafening. No noises except for my shattered breathing, the drip drip drip of my sweat against the tile floor. I don't know where I am. I bearly know who I am. This is what happens in the dark of the night. I sleepwalk, and I dream of things that might happen in the future. Inhale, exhale, finding myself in the darkness of my room. I can hear the clock ticking now, marking the time. 4:29 AM, too early to be awake, too late to fall back asleep. My radio is on, playing a gentle song. My mother must have put it on in hopes to quell my nightmares. But the words sound twisted. "Get rid of the ocean, if you ever wanna see me again." I'm shivering. Not from cold, but from the heat. I rip off the covers, I'd somehow gotten back into my bed. Maybe I should see a doctor about this. Maybe I really am insane. Maybe, maybe, maybe. I wish I knew if it was a maybe or not.