The way I feel is strange when I’ve been sleep-deprived for too long. In art class, Mr. Frank tells us to focus on breathing, to let go. This week I didn’t obey him. The world shifted when I closed my eyes, my consciousness hanging sideways off my body. I turn upside-down when I am too tired. Another dimension nags at the corners of my vision, and when I stare at one place for too long, the world seems to shrink before me. It is like layers are being peeled away from me, layers that I need — lines fall away from faces, blurred, and my focus cannot stay in one place without causing an aching pain somewhere in the bottom of my brain. “Let yourself drift away,” Mr. Frank said, and I wanted to warn him not to tempt me. I gripped my water bottle, pushed my feet into the floor, but not so hard as to break holes in this thin eggshell universe. I should get enough sleep so that I don’t slip. So that the walls of my mind thicken and I won’t hear God talking in the other room anymore.