There’s something suspicious about how my brain behaves after midnight. All day, it gives nothing. Zero thoughts and running on 3% battery. But the moment I lie down at 1:04 AM? My mind is like, “Let’s unpack every thought you’ve ever avoided, sweetie.” And it’s time for a full-blown TED Talk, an emotional documentary, a therapist session, and an existential crisis. All simultaneously.
For me, late-night thoughts fall into very specific categories. A very organised chaos, if you will. And each category says something about who we are, what we want, and what we’re terrified to admit while the sun is up.
1. The “Tomorrow I’m Fixing My Life” Delusions
The delusion that hits after midnight is Oscar-worthy.
Every night at around 1 AM, I become a different person. A healthier, more productive, spiritually aligned version of myself. In my head, I’m waking up early, going for a run, decluttering my room, applying sunscreen before the sun even rises, and solving generational trauma.
Morning Me, however, wakes up as if she had just returned from war. She sets 12 alarms, ignores them all, and wonders who signed her up for all this. It’s always the same cycle: Nighttime Me says, “Tomorrow I’ll transform my whole personality!” and Morning Me replies with “Tomorrow sounds great!” There is no reflection, no emotional growth, just pure delusional confidence. Love that for me.
2. The Social Anxiety Reruns
My brain loves to remind me of things I should not be thinking about. Like, when I laughed too loudly in class, or when I said “you too” to the professor who told me to ask if I needed help.
My brain acts like it’s airing old episodes of a show nobody watched. And what’s worse? It always picks the most irrelevant scenes. Why am I thinking about a conversation with a barista from four years ago? Why is that stored in HD quality? Why is THAT the memory my brain protects with its life? Nighttime logic is a joke.
3. The Overthinking Olympics
This one should be a competitive sport. Because only at night do I suddenly become a detective with extensive experience in decoding emojis.
“He said ‘Goodnight :)’ — what does the smiley mean? Is he happy? Polite? Emotionally unavailable? Do I need a flowchart?”
It doesn’t end there.
“Does he actually like me? Why did he take six minutes to reply? Is six minutes normal? Should I pretend to sleep? Should I actually sleep? Should I just delete my social media and live in the mountains?”
I’ve mentally planned a whole Pinterest board life with someone I can’t even properly plan a weekend with. I don’t know who gave my brain permission to get this dramatic, but I would like to have a conversation with them.
At the end of the day (or more accurately, the middle of the night), all these ridiculous 1 AM thoughts are just the unfiltered, uncensored version of us. The parts we’re too busy to deal with in daylight. The insecurities we laugh at, the dreams we don’t admit, the chaos we pretend we’ve outgrown. So the next time your brain starts a TED Talk at 1:04 AM, relax. You’re not broken, dramatic, or overly emotional—you’re just a human with wifi, hormones, and too much imagination.
If anything, your late-night thoughts are proof that beneath the stress and sarcasm, you’re still trying and growing. And hey, if my brain insists on the TED Talk, at least it’s always entertaining.