Dear 3 a.m.,

We've become well-acquainted over the years, and we've been through a lot together. I don't recall the first time we met, somewhere in a state of half-awake, half-asleep, and thinking about the small things in the dark and quiet. Maybe it was Christmas Eve years ago, when the excitement for Santa crept through the room to wake me up and prompt my childhood self to slip from the room to see if there was anything under the tree.

Lately, though, you've become a common presence, and we've seen a lot together over the past few months. Essays written by the moonlight and dim glow of a lamp, or open textbooks with highlighter marks because there was a test in five hours and never enough time to know everything.

You mean counting the hours until I need to wake up again, and stressing because four hours of sleep will never been enough, but you can't stop the clock you appear on. You are the red LED symbols splashed across the alarm clock that taunts me, telling me that time is ticking and that I'm still hunched own books at my desk.

3 a.m., we've seen each other a lot lately, but that does not make us friends. We are not friends, nor are we enemies. You've seen me through nights of stress, when sleeping is impossible so long as my own thoughts are running marathons in my head and the shadows warp my perspective on life. I could blame you, for your very existence as an hour when most are usually asleep for the day ahead, but I understand that it's not your fault. It's not your fault that I'm awake, but you do not make for a happy companion most nights.

Given, some nights are not so bad. Some nights mean Netflix and YouTube because I simply can't sleep, and you make for good partner to watch flashing images across the screen. You don't interrupt or offer commentary, but you wrap around me like a second blanket, even if you're not necessarily warm and comforting.

However, you are not cold or hostile. For those who are awake when you roll around on the clock, you are welcoming. You welcome others into your presence and serve for as long as you can as a constant ticking on the clock as your seconds and minutes pass bye, keeping secrets and listening to all who come to you.

3 a.m., we have become well-acquainted, and I understand that you are not hurtful. I wonder if you wish that I was asleep as much as I do, or if you enjoy offering your companionship to those who cannot find peace in the middle of the night.

As I stated, we aren't friends, but I admire your resolve to try and offer solace for those who cannot sleep because of work that needs to be done, or because of invasive thoughts. Thank you for your late-night company, I'm sure I'll see you again soon.