3AM.

Don’t expect a long read, I’m going straight to the point.

It’s almost 3 AM, and it’s Monday.

3 AM has kind of become significant to me. Significant of what? Maybe because it’s always the time the world decides to live in me when it should be the other way around. And trust me, the world is really heavy. It sitting in you early in the morning is not exactly easy.

Or maybe it’s the time I find peace and comfort. After staying up all night wondering why things don’t work out the way they should, when I’m just 17 and I shouldn’t think this much, the clock strikes 3, and I suddenly remember I have God and that hope exists. Then I find comfort in something—anything—and it’s always at 3 AM.

That nagging hour has me wondering if my sleep schedule will ever be fixed, or if I’ll ever even have one. But… oh well.

It has me doubting my existence and makes me think I’m imagining or dreaming my life. In case you haven’t experienced it, existential crises are pure mental torture.

At 3 AM, I find peace in my achievements… sometimes. Other times, I just compare myself to others my age and beat myself up for achieving so little. It’s either that or imposter syndrome—I don’t deserve what I’ve achieved, and the outcome of what I worked so hard for shouldn’t be attributed to me… maybe it’s just luck.

And I’m not even talking about humility. This is a legit voice haunting me and trying to make me feel bad for having everything I do. And I can’t make it make sense.

Imposter syndrome is another form of mental torture.

3 AM makes me fully aware of my broken state, and that is not too bad, because I know just who to talk to when I feel like that.

3 AM reminds me of every flaw. I can see it mocking me, its seconds and minutes slowly sticking out their tongues, laughing and taunting:

“You talk too much.”

“You’re too quiet.”

“You’re too introspective.”

“You’re stupid.”

“You push yourself too hard.”

“You’re not doing enough.”

“You’re too proud.”

“Actually, you’re just ugly and insecure.”

At this point, I just yell and pull my hair out inwardly (I create a mental picture of myself doing things I can’t actually do in reality because it’s strangely therapeutic). I genuinely feel like I’m running mad.

So today’s 3 AM is not the kind that reminds me that hope is the pillar of everything, or that everything will eventually turn out okay, as it always has, or that I should calm down and breathe so that I can think and strategize properly, or that I have come this far and can definitely go farther (by “this far,” I mean 17. Seventeen years only! Tell me, how is that far?!).

Today’s 3 AM isn’t telling me any of that. It’s just reminding me of the load of mental trash I’m carrying and telling me to go hug a wall—I don’t know why.

Plot twist: I pray to have a lovely week, and I hope you do too.