It’s 2:42 AM and the world is asleep; except you, your laptop, and that one fly who’s clearly training for the Olympics. The tabs are still open, your notes app is an emotional graveyard, and your brain has decided that, since you’re sleepless anyways, now is the perfect time to revisit every mistake since 2009.
There’s a weird kind of silence at this hour. It hums. The city’s asleep, your phone’s stopped buzzing, but your thoughts? Oh, they’re partying like it’s New Year’s Eve. You flip your pillow to the cold side, you try breathing exercises, you even consider counting sheep; but instead you’re counting deadlines, crushes, and calories.
Some nights, sleep feels like an ex who blocked you. You know it’s out there somewhere, peaceful and unbothered, but it refuses to come back. And the worst part? You start blaming yourself. Like maybe you did something to chase it away. Maybe you shouldn’t have had that coffee at 5 PM. Maybe you should’ve journaled. Maybe you should’ve shut your laptop when your body begged you to.
But you didn’t. Because you told yourself, “just one more task.” “Just one more episode.” “Just one more scroll.” And now, you’re lying there, eyes wide open, heart heavy, wondering why rest feels like a luxury.
Why ARE we SLEEPLESS?
It’s not just the caffeine or the blue light, though, yes, your phone screen has been grilling your melatonin levels like a rotisserie chicken. It’s the mental noise. The what-ifs and oh-gods and to-do lists that multiply faster than bacteria on a hostel plate.
We’re overstimulated, overworked, and under-rested. We live in a world where “rest” is suspicious, where productivity is religion, and burnout is a badge of honour. The hustle never ends, even at midnight.
Think about it: you pull an all-nighter for an assignment and your friend says, “you’re such a machine.” You laugh. You feel proud. You post about it. But you also die a little inside because you know the crash is coming.
Our generation treats sleep like an inconvenience, something we’ll “catch up on later.” But later never comes. Between 10 PM anxiety spirals and 1 AM “let me just check my email,” our nights are battlegrounds.
And somewhere in that glow of the screen, we forget that our bodies are not to-do lists. They’re living things begging for stillness. Sleep isn’t weak. It’s your body whispering, “hey, can I exist without performing for a few hours?”
The spiral.
At first, it’s just tiredness. Then it becomes something heavier. Your brain turns into static. You forget words mid-sentence. You stare at screens longer because focusing feels like swimming through fog.
You wake up groggy and guilty. You promise you’ll sleep early tonight. You don’t. The loop resets. Your emotions start misbehaving, every tiny inconvenience feels personal, every message feels loaded, every plan feels exhausting.
Sleep deprivation turns you into a funhouse mirror version of yourself. You’re there, but warped. A little slower, a little sadder, a little less patient with everything and everyone, including yourself.
The worst part? You start believing that this fog is your new normal. That being tired all the time is just “adulting.” But no, you’re not broken. You’re just burnt out. You’re not lazy. You’re running on fumes.
When your mind is cluttered and your body’s running on coffee and vibes, even joy feels heavy. You can’t pour from an empty mug, but we’re all here shaking our cups anyway, hoping caffeine counts as self-care.
The shift in learning how to rest.
Here’s the plot twist: you can learn to rest. It’s not glamorous, it’s not aesthetic, and no, it doesn’t involve buying a 17-step bedtime routine kit from some influencer. It’s about listening.
Start small. Make a “wind-down” ritual. Brew some tea, stretch a little, wash your face like it’s a prayer. Write down your racing thoughts instead of letting them rent space in your skull. Read something that doesn’t glow. Let your body realise it’s night.
Keep your phone out of bed, yes, even if it’s your emotional support device. No one’s posting anything life-changing at 2 AM except people also failing to sleep.
Reclaim your mornings, not your nights. Sleeping early feels easier when you actually want to wake up early. Put something lovely at the start of your day: a playlist, a walk, a sunrise, that first sip of chai. Give yourself a reason to look forward, not backward.
And please, stop glorifying exhaustion. Tired isn’t trendy. Hustle culture is a scam. Rest isn’t a reward. It’s your body begging you to listen.
The peace you’re chasing won’t come from finishing everything. It’ll come from realising you don’t have to earn sleep.
Peace as a practice.
Healing from sleeplessness isn’t cinematic. There’s no background music, no triumphant fade to black. It’s smaller than that.
It’s turning the light off before midnight and not waiting for your brain to protest. It’s resisting the itch to scroll. It’s letting your mind unclench.
One night, you’ll fall asleep earlier than usual. You’ll wake up, not to guilt or panic, but to sunlight filtering through your curtains. You’ll realise your body remembered how to rest when you finally let it.
Maybe healing isn’t a sunrise moment. Maybe it’s a quiet decision repeated over and over until it sticks. Maybe it’s turning off the light before midnight and letting yourself be held by the dark.
Because rest isn’t wasted time. It’s time that’s saving you quietly.
So tonight, close the tab. The world can wait till morning.
From the sleepless hearts at Her Campus at MUJ, written softly by Niamat Dhillon at HCMUJ, reminding you — you’ve done enough for today.