Hm.

"I'm tired." The fifteen year old boy looked up from his notebook and set down his pen, waiting for his friends reply. "Then sleep?"
"No, metaphorically." This puzzled the friend for a second, "Oh. What are you tired of?" Both boys thought for a second, "I'm tired of wondering what's on eveyone elses mind."
"Then stop thinking about it, Ryan." The boy adressed as Ryan stood up and walked to the window, his fingers making streaks across the glass, "I wish it was that easy, E."
E stood up and walked over to Ryan, shaking his head slowly, "You think too much."
"It keeps me up at night, sometimes."
"I'm sorry, Ryan..."
"It's not like it's your fault." Both boys knew how foolish that was, of course it's not his fault, "I'm the one doing the thinking."