In some way, late nights have become a defining trait. People wear all-nighters as a badge of pride, and if you hit the sack before 11 p.m., others look at you as if you just shared something awkward. Meanwhile, I brush my teeth at 8:30, climb into bed, and get ready for what I consider the highlight of my day: sleep.
I’ve come to terms with being an early riser in a world that favors night owls — and to be honest, I quite enjoy it.
Most evenings, I’m in bed by 8:30. Not sleeping yet, but settled in. Phone in hand, lights turned down, set on winding down. By 10 p.m., I’m out cold. And before anyone asks, no, this isn’t something I’m trying to change. I don’t feel like I’m losing out on anything. If anything, I feel like I’ve figured out a secret to life.
Here’s the thing: no matter how late I stay up — which happens now and then — my body still wakes me up before 8:30 a.m. without fail. I don’t need alarms. I don’t need a push to get up. My eyes just open, and boom, I’m awake, alert, and ready to start my day. It’s as if my internal clock doesn’t care about messing with my sleep schedule.
College culture makes it seem like nights are where everything happens. Late-night study sessions, spontaneous plans, deep conversations that start at midnight and end way too late. And while I understand the appeal, I’ve realized that I function best when my life is quiet, routine, and well-rested.
There’s something comforting about being up early while the world is still calm. Morning light feels softer. Everything feels slower. I can get ready without rushing, actually think, and ease into the day instead of dragging myself through it. I feel more like myself in the morning than I ever do late at night.
Meanwhile, everyone else is bragging about surviving on three hours of sleep, and I’m just… well-rested.
I think people assume going to bed early means you’re boring or missing out. But for me, it’s the opposite. It’s how I recharge. It’s how I keep myself sane. My early bedtime isn’t a weakness — it’s self-preservation.
I still have fun. I still socialize. I just don’t need to be exhausted to prove it.
There’s also something empowering about not forcing yourself to live the way everyone else does. I used to feel weird about it — like I should stay up later just because that’s what people my age are “supposed” to do. Now, I don’t care. I’ve learned that honoring what works for me matters more than fitting into someone else’s schedule.
Being an early bird has taught me that rest isn’t something you earn after burning yourself out. It’s something you deserve by default.
So yes, I go to bed early. Yes, I wake up early. Yes, I’m fully aware that this makes me sound about 30 years older than I am. And no, I’m not changing it.
In a world that glorifies exhaustion, I’ll happily choose sleep.